The Tower of Babel loomed before him like an accusing finger pointing toward the sky—a massive structure of white stone shining under the morning sun.
Jaune stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to the entrance, looking up with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.
This was real. He was about to step into a living dungeon—a labyrinth that supposedly changed constantly, spawning monsters from its depths as if it had a will of its own.
Like a video game dungeon, Jaune thought, trying to calm his nerves with humor.
Except here there are no save points. No extra lives. Just me and my ability not to die.
He took a deep breath, adjusted the weight of his armor on his shoulders, and walked up the stairs.
The interior of the Tower of Babel was even more impressive than the exterior.
The lobby was enormous—vaulted ceilings supported by marble columns, the polished floor reflecting the light of countless magic lamps.
There were guild staff and he could even see some adventurers: some preparing to descend, others returning covered in dust and blood, exchanging magic stones at exchange counters lining the walls.
Jaune couldn't help but be impressed by those who had gone down into the dungeon very early, considering he had woken up quite early himself to make the most of the time he could.
Security seemed quite high; not that Jaune was surprised, considering Evilus was around;
you never knew who might have bad intentions or be from a Dark Familia.
Jaune had to follow the flow of traffic and the queue forming at the main entrance to the dungeon.
As he continued moving forward, Jaune noticed several things.
The entrance to the dungeon was a vast circular chamber, so large it could have easily housed the Beacon training courtyard three times over.
The ceiling arched high above, supported by massive pillars carved with runes Jaune couldn't read but that pulsed with a faint bluish light.
The floor beneath his feet was polished stone, worn by the countless boots of people over the years.
And in the center of it all, like the mouth of some primordial beast, was the entrance.
A huge hole in the center of the lobby, so wide a small building could fit inside.
Stone stairs descended into the darkness and Jaune could feel a draft of cold air rising from below, bringing with it a smell of damp earth and something else.
He couldn't help but wonder how old this entrance was, feeling curious about the monsters that lurked threateningly inside it.
When Jaune finally registered with the guards watching the dungeon, he was able to approach the center and see the entrance in more detail.
A spiral staircase descended into the darkness, wide enough for five people to walk side by side comfortably.
There was no railing. Just cold stone and the promise of depths extending far beyond what the eye could see.
Jaune paused at the edge, looking down. He could hear distant echoes—footsteps, occasional voices, the clash of metal against something hard.
Other adventurers, already submerged in the depths.
He took a deep breath, feeling his aura respond instinctively, a faint whitish-gold glow flickering around his body before settling into an invisible layer of protection.
I can do this, he told himself. I've fought Grimm. I've fought terrorists and assassins.
I survived Cinder Fall. A dungeon full of monsters isn't going to stop me.
With that thought firmly planted, Jaune began his descent.
.
.
Floor 1.
The walls glowed with a pale blue bioluminescence that vaguely reminded him of the Dust crystal caves he had seen in photos of Atlas.
The corridor stretched out before him, branching in multiple directions like the arteries of a living organism.
The air was warm and humid, almost like being in a greenhouse, and there was a low, constant hum that seemed to come from the walls themselves.
"Okay," Jaune murmured, unsheathing his broken sword and raising his shield.
The familiar weight of steel—though incomplete—in his hand was comforting.
"Time to see how different these monsters are from the Grimm."
A sharp growl echoed from a side passage, answering his question almost immediately.
Three small green figures came running toward him. Goblins.
Exactly as Rose had described them—chubby, with grayish-green skin, grotesque faces full of needle-sharp teeth, and yellowish eyes glowing with primitive bestial malice.
Jaune raised his guard, his body falling automatically into the combat stance he had perfected over two years of brutal training.
But then the Goblins got closer, and Jaune realized something.
They were small. Not just small—they barely reached his waist. And slow.
To Jaune's eyes, accustomed to tracking the blurred movements of Ruby in full Petal Burst or dodging the serpentine attacks of Weiss's Semblance acceleration, these monsters moved as if they were running through molasses.
Seriously? thought Jaune in disbelief. After what I've been through, this feels like...
The first Goblin leaped at him, its claws extended and teeth snapping.
Jaune simply stepped aside—he didn't even need to dodge, just a casual step—and let the Goblin fly past him.
Then he turned fluidly and used the pommel of his sword to strike the back of the monster's head.
The impact was harder than he had intended. Much harder.
CRACK.
The Goblin slammed into the ground with enough force to create a small crater-like crack in the stone, its skull visibly deformed.
For a moment, Jaune thought he had killed the creature in an especially brutal way, but then the body began to dissolve into black smoke, leaving behind only a small purple crystalline stone.
"Whoah," Jaune exhaled, looking at his gloved hand with genuine surprise. "That was... much stronger than I expected."
It's the Falna, he realized. I could see my strength increased to 45 in a single day.
And the Goddess Dia said that was impressive, but knowing the maximum stat I don't think it's that impressive.
This must just be because I'm "Level 1"; I was already a trained huntsman with plenty of strength without the Falna, but apparently my strength increased much more than I was used to and today I could see the noticeable change easily.
Jaune, in yesterday's fight, hadn't noticed that strength increase too much;
afterward, not everything, barely, and he was able to attack Arachnia, but he could agree that, even when he wasn't fully aware, his strength increase was necessary when resisting the attacks of a Level 5.
The other two goblins hesitated, their growls turning uncertain as they processed the instant death of their companion.
But the instinct of rage overcame their fear and both launched themselves at him simultaneously, trying to overwhelm him with numbers.
Jaune blocked the claw of one with his shield—the impact felt as if a small child had hit his arm—and slashed the other with a horizontal movement of his broken sword.
The blade passed through the monster's flesh as if it were melted butter.
The Goblin didn't even have time to squeal before dissolving into black ash, leaving behind another magic stone.
The last Goblin, now alone and clearly terrified, tried to flee.
Its chubby legs pumped frantically as it ran down the corridor, letting out sharp squeals of panic.
Jaune chased it—not sprinting, just a light jog—and still caught up to the Goblin in seconds.
His enhanced speed made the monster's desperate sprint look pathetic.
He knocked it down with a clean shield bash that sent the Goblin flying against the wall. Crack. Ashes.
Another magic stone.
Jaune stopped, looking at the three glowing magic stones on the ground.
They were small, the size of marbles, emitting a soft purple glow.
"This was..." he began, crouching to pick them up and put them in his pouch, "surprisingly easy. Like going back to the Starter Zones in X-Ray and Vav: The Game after reaching max level just to farm low-level materials."
He felt almost guilty about how simple it had been.
These monsters, which probably terrified genuine novice adventurers, were practically harmless to him.
But it makes sense, Jaune reasoned as he continued deeper into the first floor, his shield up and his senses alert.
After all, despite being a Level 1, I wasn't a true novice;
I've faced tougher challenges. This was dispatching a pack of Beowolves, nothing hard and just routine work.
Still, he kept his guard up. Rose had been clear: arrogance killed more adventurers than any monster.
Just because these enemies were easy didn't mean he could lower his guard and get careless.
.
Floors 1-4.
Over the next hour, Jaune methodically worked his way through the first four floors.
It was almost meditative—find monsters, kill them efficiently, collect their magic stones and drop items, repeat.
The goblins continued to be pathetic. As he was about to descend to the second floor, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
A flash of greenish-gold caught his attention. He stopped, narrowing his eyes in the gloom.
It was a bird. It looked like a rooster, but its feathers were a brilliant greenish-gold shade that seemed to shine with its own light.
It was perched on a rock ledge, its small black eyes watching him with what almost seemed like intelligence.
"A Jack Bird," Jaune murmured, remembering the description he had read at the Guild.
Rose had mentioned they were incredibly rare. "Although not aggressive, it is incredibly fast and flees if it detects enemies. It is said its drop item is worth at least 1,000,000 valis."
One million valis. That was... a fifth of what he needed for the cheapest repair of Crocea Mors.
And much more than what Leon and the god Baldr gave him to subsist on.
The bird looked at him. Jaune looked back, his mind racing.
It's fast. If I try to chase it, it will escape before I can take two steps. I need...
On impulse, Jaune crouched silently and picked up a loose stone from the floor.
He weighed it in his hand, mentally calculating the trajectory.
I only have one shot. If I miss, the bird will disappear and I'll never see one again.
He took a deep breath. Concentrated. Visualized the throw—not too hard or the stone would fly past the bird, not too soft or it would fall short.
Right... here.
He threw.
The stone cut through the air in a perfect arc. The Jack Bird, detecting the movement, began to spread its wings to flee—
THWACK!
The stone hit the bird directly in the head with a satisfying sound of contact.
The monster swayed, stunned, and then began to dissolve into black smoke before it could recover.
Something fell to the ground with a metallic clink.
Jaune blinked, almost not believing what had just happened.
He walked forward in a state of mild shock and picked up the object.
It was an egg. But not an ordinary egg—it was the size of an ostrich egg and made of what appeared to be solid gold, with intricate patterns etched into its surface that glowed with a faint magical shimmer.
"Wow..." Jaune exhaled, turning the egg in his hands. It was surprisingly light for gold.
"That was... ridiculously lucky. Rose said people spend months looking for one of these. I guess RNG is on my side today."
What Jaune didn't know—what he couldn't know—was that his "luck" wasn't luck at all.
In the deepest recesses of his soul, where the Semblances of those he had lost resided, a four-leaf clover glowed briefly with green light.
But Jaune, unknowingly, simply put the golden egg carefully into his pouch and continued descending, with a small smile of satisfaction on his lips.
The Kobolds—dog-headed monsters that appeared a few times on the first floor but began to increase on the second floor—were faster and had sharper claws, but to Jaune's trained reflexes, they still moved in what seemed like slow motion.
He blocked their attacks almost without thinking, his body reacting purely on muscle memory accumulated from countless hours of training with Pyrrha, with his friends and team, along with actual combat against Grimm.
"Dodge left," Jaune muttered as a kobold tried to slash his side.
His body was already moving before he finished forming the thought.
"Block with shield. Counterattack. Clean cut."
The Kobold dissolved into ashes.
"It's like reading the strategy guide of a video game while playing," Jaune commented to himself, picking up another magic stone.
"Except here there are no save points or extra lives. And you don't have a minimap above your head to see the explored zones of the dungeon either."
On the third floor, he encountered a larger group—five Kobolds surrounded him in a narrow chamber, trying to coordinate to attack from multiple angles simultaneously.
Jaune decided it was a good time to test how well he handled his broken sword in real combat against multiple opponents.
"Sorry, girl," he whispered to Crocea Mors, running his gloved hand over the truncated blade.
"I know you don't look pretty right now, but you're still lethal."
He launched into combat, deliberately without using magic or his amplification Semblance and barely using his aura.
Just basic swordsmanship, the fundamentals Pyrrha had drilled into his head during countless training sessions and all the training he managed to learn in Atlas.
He spun among the Kobolds with a fluid grace that would have made his fallen mentor weep with pride.
He used his shield to deflect claws, creating openings he exploited with precise cuts of his sword into throats and vulnerable joints.
It was an efficient massacre. In less than ten seconds, five magic stones lay on the floor.
But as he picked them up, Jaune frowned.
"The reach of this broken sword is weird," he muttered, taking a few practice swings in the empty air.
"I have to get much closer than I'm used to. It's like playing an action game with a dagger when you've been using a bastard sword the whole time. The hitbox feels completely different."
He grimaced, remembering his fight with Arachnia. If he had had his sword at full length, he would have been able to decapitate her when he had that perfect opportunity.
Instead, he had only grazed her.
That nagging thought resurfaced in his mind, louder: You need to repair it. Soon.
You can't afford to be at a disadvantage again.
Jaune was starting to suspect he was going crazy, but he put that thought aside for later;
after all, the intrusive thought wasn't wrong.
Jaune clenched his jaw and sheathed the sword with more force than necessary.
"One step at a time," he told himself firmly.
"First I earn money. Then I repair the sword. Then I get stronger. After having helped Orario and things calm down, I can think about finding a way to return home, while waiting for Team RWBY."
The fourth floor was more of the same.
Kill, collect, kill and collect.
.
Floors 5-6.
The fifth floor brought a notable change in the environment.
The walls here were a darker blue, almost indigo, with veins of moss green snaking through the stone like infected veins.
The air felt heavier, more charged, and there was a metallic smell that reminded him uncomfortably of blood.
The corridors were also narrower, making combat potentially more dangerous if he got trapped in a confined space without room to maneuver.
The first new type of monster Jaune encountered made him wrinkle his nose in disgust.
A Frog Shooter.
The creature was exactly what its name suggested—a giant frog the size of a large dog, with bright green skin covered in viscous slime that dripped onto the floor.
But what really made it grotesque was its single bulbous eye dominating its face, the size of a baseball, staring at him unblinkingly with a predatory intensity that made Jaune's skin crawl.
"Ugh, gross," Jaune muttered, grimacing. "Definitely not like those stories where the princess is enchanted and waiting for a kiss from the sweet prince."
The frog let out a deep croak that echoed in the narrow corridor.
Then, before Jaune could be taken by surprise by the grossness, the frog's tongue shot toward him like a whip: long, sticky, and surprisingly fast.
Jaune raised his shield on pure instinct, and the tongue wrapped around the edge with a wet, unpleasant sound that churned his stomach.
The frog pulled, trying to drag him closer to... what? Swallow him?
Bite him with whatever it had in that mouth?
Jaune had no intention of finding out.
He planted his feet, feeling the enhanced strength of his Falna flowing through his legs, and pulled in the opposite direction with all his might.
The Frog Shooter went flying from where it was crouched, dragging through the air toward him with a surprised croak.
Jaune adjusted his shield momentarily, letting the creature fly straight at him, and then sliced it in half with a brutal horizontal swing of his sword as it passed.
Ashes. A larger magic stone, of a watery green shade.
"Okay, that was weird but effective," Jaune commented, picking up the stone.
"Although I definitely need a bath after this. That slime was disgusting."
He continued deeper into the fifth floor, encountering and dispatching several more Frog Shooters.
He developed an efficient pattern—let them grab his shield, pull them off balance, slice. Simple, brutal, effective.
But then he encountered his first War Shadow, and things got interesting.
The creature was unsettling in a way the other monsters hadn't been.
It was humanoid—roughly his height—but completely black, as if made of solidified shadow or living ink.
Its arms were disproportionately long, almost dragging on the ground, ending in hands with only three fingers each—but those fingers were sharp claws like blades that shone faintly with a metallic glint in the gloom.
It moved strangely too. It didn't walk so much as glide, its feet barely touching the ground, as if it were floating over an invisible surface.
When it saw Jaune, the War Shadow let out a sound—a hiss that sounded almost like a human laugh, distorted and wrong in a way that made the hairs on the back of Jaune's neck stand up.
Then it lunged forward with alarming speed that made the Goblins and Kobolds look like snails in comparison.
Jaune blocked the first blow with his shield, feeling the impact reverberating slightly up his arm like a hammer strike.
Stronger than the previous ones, he noted analytically, his Huntsman mind automatically cataloging the threat.
The War Shadow's claws scraped against the metal of his shield, leaving shallow marks that glowed faintly.
The War Shadow attacked again, and Jaune realized it wasn't just strong—it was skilled.
Its arms moved in a coordinated attack pattern—high left, low right, middle left—systematically trying to find an opening in his defense, testing his reflexes.
It has basic tactical intelligence, Jaune cataloged, taking a step back, then two, letting the creature chase him.
Not just pack instinct. This is more like fighting an Alpha Beowolf.
He waited for his moment, watching the attack pattern. Left, right, left, right...
There.
When the War Shadow threw another left strike, Jaune dodged to the right instead of blocking, letting the claws pass millimeters from his face.
In the split-second opening it created, he counterattacked—a quick, precise thrust with his broken sword that pierced directly through the War Shadow's center of mass.
The creature convulsed, its hiss turning into something that sounded painfully human for a moment before dissolving into ashes, leaving behind a notably larger magic stone than the previous ones and a drop item—a sharp black blade the size of a kitchen knife.
"Still easy," Jaune murmured, storing both items carefully.
"Drop items are more valuable than magic stones according to Rose. I definitely need to collect these."
By the time Jaune reached the sixth floor, he had fought several more Frog Shooters and War Shadows, refining his techniques against each type and gradually filling his pouch with an increasing number of magic stones and drop items.
But when he entered the sixth floor proper, something felt immediately wrong.
There were too many monsters.
Not just a few wandering the corridors like on the previous floors. There were packs of them. Goblins mixed with Kobolds.
Frog Shooters crouched next to War Shadows. All moving together in groups that normally should be separated by territory and inter-species conflict.
"What the hell...?" Jaune muttered, pressing himself against the wall of a corridor and watching cautiously a large chamber where at least twenty monsters of different types were congregating.
"Rose didn't mention anything about Monster Parties on the upper floors. Is this normal?"
A Goblin passed close to his hiding spot, and Jaune instinctively held his breath, but the monster didn't notice him and continued shuffling along.
The spawn rate is completely broken, Jaune thought, frowning. Was this something normal? Is it because of me?
Is the dungeon reacting to my presence somehow because I'm clearing the floors too easily?
Or was this something uncommon and I just had the bad luck to run into it?
He vaguely remembered Rose mentioning that the dungeon was a "living entity" in a certain way, that it reacted to intruders.
And he was definitely an anomaly—a person from another world, after all, his Falna cataloged him as a Remnant Human.
It wouldn't be strange if the dungeon could also notice the differences, not to mention his active Aura.
Maybe the dungeon feels the same attraction as the Grimm?
Jaune thought, considering it a possibility, adjusting his grip on his sword.
After all, having unlocked aura made the Grimm feel more attracted to his presence.
After all, it was like activating a lightbulb: without aura you have it off, but you can still detect it if you have a good eye.
But with aura the light turns on and now you can be guided by its light.
Jaune put his questions aside; he could ask his goddess the next day, and if she didn't know, maybe his goddess's friend, the goddess Astraea.
After all, he thought she would help him without asking for anything in return;
she seems like the motherly type of person.
He proceeded cautiously into the sixth floor, taking encounters when he could isolate small groups, retreating strategically when the packs were too large.
His aura protected him from most damage—blows that managed to get past his shield simply bounced off the whitish-gold glow wrapping his skin—and his enhanced strength meant he could take down enemies quickly.
But it was exhausting in a way the previous floors hadn't been.
Not physically—he had done more tiring and stressful things than simply fighting first-floor monsters;
that meant he was barely tired—but mentally. Having to be constantly alert, constantly assessing threats from multiple angles, since apparently these monsters barely gave him a few minutes of rest...
Like at Beacon, like Atlas, he thought grimly, blocking a War Shadow strike while kicking a Goblin trying to bite his leg.
Constant combat with no end in sight.
He shook his head sharply, dismissing those dark memories. Focus, Jaune. The past is the past. You are here now.
.
Floor 7.
By the time Jaune finally reached the seventh floor, his pouch was considerably heavier and his Scroll indicated his aura was at 99%—hardly any of his aura spent despite all the combat he had seen.
The seventh floor was notably different from the previous ones. The walls here were a rusty red that reminded him of dried blood, and there was a dense metallic smell in the air that made every breath feel heavy.
The corridors were also wider, with ceilings that arched higher—as if the dungeon were expanding to accommodate larger creatures.
The first monster Jaune encountered made him make a face of genuine disgust.
A Killer Ant.
The creature was the size of a German Shepherd, with a shiny black exoskeleton that looked like polished plate armor.
Its mandibles were massive—almost the size of Jaune's head—opening and closing with audible clicks that echoed in the corridor like the sound of giant scissors.
And its eyes—multiple compound eyes glowing blood-red—watched him with a predatory intelligence the previous monsters simply hadn't possessed.
"Giant ants," Jaune complained, firming his grip on the shield.
"Great. Just what I needed—nightmares from my childhood come true. Jaune's little sisters are going to have a field daywhen I tell them about this."
The Killer Ant charged, moving surprisingly fast for something its size, its legs making a click-click-click sound against the stone like the tac-tac of heels running.
Jaune blocked with his shield, feeling the real impact this time—strong enough to make him stagger slightly and send a slight tremor up his arm, sure, he didn't reinforce his body with his aura, but he still couldn't help but be impressed.
Much stronger than the Goblins or even the War Shadows.
The ant's mandibles closed around the edge of his shield and Jaune could hear the metal creaking under the monster's attack.
The muscles in his arm tensed slightly as he pushed back easily, preventing the mandibles from crushing the paint on his shield.
He slashed with his broken sword, aiming for the creature's main body.
CLANG.
The blade bounced off the exoskeleton with an unpleasant metallic sound, leaving barely a superficial scratch.
Jaune frowned at that, but didn't care; after all, he hadn't put all his strength into it;
he had been moderating it so as not to send the monsters flying.
Natural armor too thick, Jaune cataloged analytically. I need to hit monsters reinforcing my body with aura if I want to kill them easily, or I can hit areas where the armor doesn't fully protect them, like the joints.
He pushed with his shield, creating space, and the Killer Ant recoiled, repositioning.
Its antennae waved, likely detecting him, analyzing him as he analyzed it.
Then it charged again, this time from a lower angle, trying to bite his legs.
Jaune leaped back, dodging narrowly, and then counterattacked—but instead of cutting the body, he aimed for one of the articulated legs.
His sword sliced through the vulnerable point where the exoskeleton was thinnest and the leg separated with a satisfying crunch.
The ant stumbled, off balance. Before it could recover, Jaune attacked again, this time aiming for the head.
He found a weak spot between the exoskeleton plates and sank deep, and the Killer Ant convulsed before dissolving into ashes.
Jaune took a deep breath, feeling his heart pounding heavily. "Okay. That was trickier than the other monsters. These are definitely a step up from the previous floors."
He was starting to realize the monsters were getting stronger;
still none caused him trouble, but that made him think about how strong they would be on the deeper floors.
And then he heard the sound—a repetitive click, click, click coming from multiple directions, growing in volume.
Oh no.
20 more Killer Ants emerged from the surrounding corridors, attracted by the pheromones of their fallen companion.
Rose had warned about this—ants called for reinforcements when in trouble. They were all converging on him, their mandibles clicking threateningly.
"Shit," Jaune cursed, stepping back a bit annoyed. He hadn't taken the threat of the early floor monsters seriously despite the number of monsters that had tried to attack him;
he knew these monsters wouldn't be problems for him and he could handle them easily, but letting them surround him was bad, especially when he had to fight them in a relatively confined space.
Despite the situation, he didn't lose his cool.
He was going to kill them quickly so they wouldn't start calling more.
After all, he couldn't afford to be overwhelmed by monsters; that was the way huntsmen died easily.
Even though the Grimm weren't a problem, the excessive and massive numbers overwhelming them became a lethal problem.
Overconfidence can be fatal.
And then he remembered. He had magic now. Offensive magic that, according to Dia, was "a powerful blast of fire that chases and reduces all evil".
Le Chevalier.
He had never used it before. He didn't even know how it felt to use real magic instead of just his Semblance.
But his goddess had explained it was short-chant magic, and the activation word had been floating in the back of his mind since Dia had told him.
The Killer Ants were getting closer, forming a semicircle, preparing to attack simultaneously.
Now was a good time to test it and see how magic acts.
After all, he has had his own experience of how magic can be very powerful, so Jaune couldn't help but get excited about what he was about to do.
Jaune took a deep breath before sheathing his broken sword and raising his arm to aim at the monsters surrounding him.
He tried to relax and let the body's instinct do what it had to do.
"Ignite"
The effect was instant and terrifying.
Fire—bright, golden, almost alive—burst from the palm of his extended hand. It wasn't a fireball.
It wasn't a continuous stream. It was as if the fire itself had gained consciousness and chosen the shape of a flaming spear, burning with an intensity that made the air around Jaune ripple with heat.
The spear of fire launched forward like a guided missile, snaking through the air with impossible purpose.
It hit the first Killer Ant squarely, and the monster disintegrated—it didn't dissolve into ash like the others, but simply ceased to exist, consumed so completely that not even a magic stone remained.
But the spear didn't stop.
It turned in the air, correcting its course, and hit a second ant. Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Jaune watched with growing awe as his magic hunted and annihilated the Killer Ants one by one, moving with a precision that defied physics.
It was as if the fire knew exactly where each monster was and refused to let any escape.
In less than ten seconds, the entire swarm had been incinerated.
The fire faded, leaving only scorch marks on the walls and floor, and the acrid smell of burnt flesh.
Jaune stood there, panting slightly, his hand still extended.
"Holy..." he whispered. "What was that?"
He looked at his palm, half expecting to see it burned or marked, but it was perfectly unharmed.
His aura pulsed gently around him, having dropped only a little from the energy expenditure.
That was... incredible.
But also terrifying. That level of power, that guided precision—it wasn't something he had experienced before.
Not even the strongest Semblances he had seen on Remnant compared.
This is real magic, he realized. Not technology. Not dust. Real, true magic.
And now he could use it.
Jaune shook his head, trying to process the sensation. The swarm's magic stones were gone, evaporated by the sheer heat, but he didn't care at this moment.
The experience—the feeling of power flowing through him, of touching something ancient and primordial—was what mattered.
And best of all, he didn't feel tired and that was a normal magic attack, without enhancing it with his amplification semblance; if the spell was already powerful on its own, how powerful will it be when he uses his semblance?
He laughed nervously, almost in disbelief at the sheer power he had just unleashed.
"If that's what my magic can do being level 1, what would happen when I reach level 2? Or level 3? And boosted by my semblance?"
An unwanted image crossed his mind—Cinder Fall, the woman who had killed Pyrrha, wrapped in those same golden flames, screaming as the purifying fire consumed her.
Jaune shook his head sharply, dismissing the vengeful fantasy. No. Focus. Now is not the time for that.
But he stored the information carefully. Le Chevalier was powerful. Very powerful. But it was also area magic—useful for groups, but dangerous in confined spaces where it could collapse the ceiling on his head or cause collateral damage.
Jaune needed to be more careful with his magic in the future.
He couldn't just cast Le Chevalier every time he faced a large group.
He had to think strategically, assess the situation first.
He continued deeper into the seventh floor, being more cautious now, more attentive to his surroundings.
The corridors here branched into more complex patterns—not just simple forks, but four and five-way intersections that would have made anyone without a good sense of direction easily lost.
Like a dungeon exploration video game without a minimap, Jaune thought, turning a corner carefully with his shield up.
Except here you can't mark the walls with chalk or paint—Rose mentioned the dungeon regenerates and changes constantly.
The marks just disappear.
He found more Killer Ants wandering the corridors, but now that he knew what to expect, he handled them more efficiently.
He waited for them to attack, dodged their mandibles, and then attacked the weak joints of their legs or the space between their exoskeleton plates.
It was methodical, almost clinical in its efficiency.
But what really made Jaune pause was the next type of monster he encountered.
Purple Moths.
The creatures were unsettlingly beautiful—large moths the size of eagles, with wings that shimmered with iridescent patterns of deep purple and violet-blue that seemed to move and change when you looked directly at them.
They floated silently through the corridors, their movements so graceful they seemed to be swimming through the air rather than flying.
But there was something deeply disturbing about them. Maybe it was the way their wings moved—too fluid, too hypnotic.
Or maybe it was their massive compound eyes glowing with a sickly glow in the gloom.
Or the fine dust falling from their wings with every beat, creating small clouds that glowed faintly in the air.
Jaune approached one cautiously, with his shield raised, unsure of what to expect.
According to the notes he had read, Purple Moths were relatively peaceful unless provoked, but their wings released a poisonous dust that could weaken and poison people with low resistance.
The moth noticed him and its wings beat faster, releasing a cloud of glowing purple dust that drifted toward him.
Jaune instinctively held his breath and stepped back, but some particles of the dust touched his exposed skin—his face, his neck—and he felt a strange tingle, like thousands of tiny needles pricking him.
His aura responded immediately, glowing more brightly around his body.
Jaune could feel the attack, the way the dust tried to infiltrate through his nostrils when he breathed the air, seeking any crack or weakness.
Unfortunately, aura couldn't reject toxic agents that were breathed in, but Jaune wasn't worried;
after all, even if he inhaled the poison with his semblance, boosting his body, he could easily purge any external pathogen with his enhanced immune system.
Sure, even aura had its limits; if it were a deadly poison, you could delay it, but not purge it.
Not to mention Aura didn't cure all diseases.
Seeing that the moths were well above him to kill normally.
Jaune raised his hand and called his magic again.
"Ignite."
The spear of golden fire burst from his palm, chasing the Purple Moth through the corridor.
The creature tried to flee, its wings beating frantically, but the guided fire was relentless.
It caught up to it and the moth disintegrated into ashes instantly, leaving nothing behind.
Jaune frowned at that. His magic was too powerful—it was destroying the magic stones along with the monsters.
He would have to use his magic more sparingly if he wanted to collect materials.
He found several more Purple Moths as he advanced, but this time he looked for a way to handle them with his sword and shield, being careful not to inhale the poisonous dust and keeping his aura active as a shield.
It was more laborious, but at least he got the magic stones—beautiful deep purple gems that seemed to pulse with inner light.
And then Jaune reached a large chamber—much larger than anything he had seen so far.
The ceiling arched nearly thirty feet high, supported by natural stone columns that looked like they had been carved by running water over millennia.
There were multiple exits, at least six Jaune could count, leading to different passageways.
And in the center of the chamber was a group of monsters that made Jaune stop dead in his tracks.
Needle Rabbits.
There were at least a dozen of them. Large rabbits—at least compared to the few rabbits he had seen—but completely covered in sharp spines sticking out of their fur like porcupine quills.
Their eyes were blood red, glowing with a predatory ferocity no normal rabbit would ever have.
They moved as a group, leaping and bouncing off walls and columns with an agility that made Beowolves look slow in comparison.
And when one of them noticed him, they all turned toward him in unison, their long ears swiveling in his direction.
Then they charged.
"Shit!" Jaune cursed, raising his shield just in time to block the first Needle Rabbit that leaped at his face.
The impact was stronger than he expected. The rabbit bounced off his shield with a metallic sound, leaving slight scratches on the metal, before falling to the ground and immediately preparing for another jump.
The other eleven rabbits surrounded him quickly, leaping and attacking from multiple angles simultaneously.
It was like fighting a storm of blade-covered golf balls—fast, unpredictable, and surprisingly dangerous.
Jaune blocked, dodged, spun, trying to keep up with the attacks.
His training kicked in, his body moving on pure muscle memory while his mind worked to track all enemies simultaneously.
One leaped at his back. Jaune spun and hit it with his shield, sending it flying against a column where it smashed and dissolved into ashes.
Two more attacked from his left. He slashed with his sword, feeling the resistance as the blade went through the spine-covered body of the first, and then kicked the second before it could reach him.
But they were fast and agile. And coordinated, but the annoying thing was their size. It made cutting them a bit tricky.
This is like fighting a swarm of Lancers, Jaune thought, his breath quickening as he continued moving, refusing to stay still.
Except these are smaller and more agile.
A Needle Rabbit managed to get past his defenses, hitting him in the shoulder.
The spines pricked through his armor—superficially, not deep enough to cause real damage thanks to his aura, but enough for Jaune to feel the impact.
His aura glowed more brightly, rejecting the attack and healing the minor damage instantly.
But Jaune could see on his Scroll that his aura had dropped a small percentage—not much, maybe two percent, but it was the first time he had really lost aura since entering the dungeon, that was done by damage.
These rabbits could be dangerous for normal adventurers without aura, he realized.
In swarms like this, they could easily overwhelm someone with coordinated attacks.
He decided to end this quickly.
He planted his feet, let three Needle Rabbits get close, and then spun in a wide arc with his sword, using more force this time.
The blade cut through all three rabbits simultaneously, and they dissolved into ashes.
The remaining rabbits hesitated, their coordination breaking momentarily upon seeing their companions fall so easily.
Jaune seized the opening. He moved fast, faster than he had been moving, and began dispatching the Needle Rabbits one by one with precise and efficient strikes.
In less than thirty seconds, the chamber was empty except for him and a collection of glowing magic stones scattered across the floor.
Jaune took a deep breath, cleaning his sword before sheathing it and starting to pick up the gems.
His aura had already regenerated the small percentage he had lost—the advantage of having a large aura pool was that it regenerated constantly.
"The upper floors are starting to get interesting," he muttered to himself, storing the last magic stone.
"Not difficult yet, but definitely more challenging than goblins and kobolds."
He continued deeper, encountering and dispatching more groups of Needle Rabbits, along with more Killer Ants and Purple Moths.
The encounter patterns were denser here—there were hardly moments of rest between fights.
But for someone like Jaune, who had spent years fighting endless hordes of Grimm, this was almost... relaxing, in a way.
He didn't have to worry about civilians. He didn't have to worry about teammates falling.
He didn't have to worry about preserving resources or ammo. Just him, his skills, and monsters to kill.
Simple. Straightforward. Almost therapeutic.
.
Floors 8-9
The eighth floor brought another change in the environment. The walls here were a sickly dark green, damp with condensation that dripped constantly, creating a drip-drip-drip sound that echoed through the corridors.
The air was cooler here too, almost cold, and Jaune could see his breath forming small clouds of vapor.
The monsters here were more diverse—mixes of everything he had seen before, plus some new types Rose hadn't mentioned in detail.
He encountered Dungeon Lizards—lizards the size of crocodiles with scales that shone with a metallic sheen, capable of climbing walls and ceilings with disturbing ease.
Their tongues were like whips, shooting toward him with surprising range, and their jaws could crush rock.
But for Jaune, they were just another type of monster to catalog and dispatch.
He waited for them to attack, dodged their tongues, and slashed their vulnerable throats when they overextended.
He also found more War Shadows, but these seemed slightly larger and stronger than those on the fifth floor.
Their movements were more refined, their attacks more coordinated. Jaune had to try a little harder to predict their patterns.
The dungeon is scaling the difficulty gradually every time I go down, Jaune thought, blocking a War Shadow strike and counterattacking with a precise thrust.
Each floor presents slightly tougher challenges. Like the levels of a well-designed video game.
By the time he reached the ninth floor, Jaune had fallen into a steady rhythm. Find monsters. Assess threat. Dispatch efficiently.
Collect magic stones and drop items. Repeat.
His pouch was getting heavy—really heavy—with all the magic stones and materials he had collected.
He would have to make a return trip soon to sell them or find a way to carry more.
Maybe I should have bought several bags, Jaune thought, adjusting the weight on his shoulder.
Or maybe there's some kind of magic storage item I can buy. Although those are probably expensive.
The ninth floor was darker than the previous ones, with only occasional bioluminescence providing dim light.
Jaune had to rely more on his other senses—listening for the sound of claws against stone, feeling the air currents displaced by moving monsters.
It was eerie, in a way. It reminded him of night missions on Remnant, when Grimm lurked in the shadows and you could only rely on your instincts to survive.
But Jaune had done those missions countless times in Atlas and some at Beacon.
Not to mention the fight against Grimm on his journey from Mistral. Darkness didn't scare him.
If anything, it gave him an advantage—his aura acted as an early warning sensor, pulsing slightly every time a monster got too close.
Jaune sighed as he continued his adventure through the dungeon.
.
Floor 10
By the time Jaune finally reached the tenth floor, he had been in the dungeon for hours.
His Scroll indicated it was approximately ten in the morning—he had entered around seven in the morning, which meant he had been exploring for nearly three hours straight.
It wasn't much, but it's still impressive that he had been diving for three hours and was barely at the tenth floor, although the monsters delaying him and him getting lost might have contributed to his lateness.
Jaune continued forward and found his first Bad Bat here—a creature that looked like a giant bat with a wingspan of nearly ten feet, with fangs dripping a green liquid that made the ground hiss where it fell.
The creature launched from the ceiling, trying to catch him by surprise.
Jaune heard it coming—the flapping of wings was unmistakable in the silence—and rolled to the side.
The creature flew past where he had been standing, and Jaune sliced it in half with an upward swing as it passed.
Ashes. Another magic stone.
"Too slow," Jaune commented, storing the gem. "You'd have to move three times faster to surprise me."
He continued, encountering and dispatching more Bad Bats, along with more of the familiar monsters from previous floors.
The encounters were becoming more frequent—the dungeon was definitely spawning monsters more quickly now.
Jaune cracked his neck taking a moment to rest.
He wasn't tired. Not physically, at least. His aura had stayed constant around ninety-eight to ninety-nine percent the whole time, regenerating faster than the monsters could deplete it.
And his stamina, bolstered by his enhanced Falna, had barely been touched.
Mentally, however, he was starting to feel the strain of constant vigilance.
It wasn't exhaustion—it was more like... concentration fatigue. The feeling you get after studying for hours straight or keeping your Semblance active during a prolonged battle.
I need a break, Jaune decided, finding a small alcove off the main corridor where he could sit with his back against the wall and watch the entrance.
Just ten minutes to rest my mind.
He sat down, letting his shield rest against his knee and his sword across his lap, and took out some of the food he had packed—simple bread, a bit of dried cheese, and water from his canteen.
He ate in silence, listening to the distant sounds of the dungeon.
He could hear echoes of other adventurers somewhere nearby—muffled voices, the clash of metal, occasional roars of monsters.
He wondered how they were doing. Were they encountering the same massive numbers of monsters as him?
After finishing his quick meal, Jaune decided this would be a good time to experiment.
He had been wanting to try something since waking up in this world—specifically, if he could use the Semblances he had copied from his fallen friends.
Dia had confirmed they were there, somewhere deep inside him, but Jaune hadn't had a chance to really test them in combat.
Now, in a relatively safe alcove with a break from monsters, seemed the perfect time to experiment.
He would start with the most obvious one—the one he knew best because he had spent countless hours training alongside its original owner.
Polarity. Pyrrha's Semblance.
Jaune closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and reaching deep within himself.
He could feel his own Semblance—that familiar, warm presence that had always been there, ready to amplify the aura of others.
But deeper, buried under layers of pain and loss, he could feel other presences.
Echoes of people who had once been alive.
Pyrrha.
His mind conjured the memory of her—her smile, her laugh, the way her red hair shone in the sunlight.
The way she had always believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself.
"Help me with this, Pyr," Jaune whispered quietly, extending his hand toward his shield resting against the wall.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then he felt something—a pull, slight and distant, like a muscle he had never used before suddenly activating.
His aura pulsed differently, the whitish-gold glow taking on the faintest reddish tint for a fraction of a second.
And his shield moved.
Just a little—a small wobble, a barely perceptible shift—but it definitely moved.
The metal responded to his will in a way metal normally shouldn't.
Jaune's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding. "It worked! It really worked!"
He tried again, concentrating harder. This time, the shield lifted off the ground, hovering clumsily in the air for about three seconds before falling to the floor with a metallic clang.
Jaune laughed—a genuine, joyful laugh that echoed in the small alcove. "I can use Polarity! I can actually use it!"
But as he experimented more, he quickly realized the limitations.
For one, he had no idea how to use the Semblance properly.
Pyrrha had made it look so easy—controlling weapons in mid-combat, redirecting projectiles, manipulating the battlefield to her will.
But Jaune was struggling to simply levitate his shield for more than a few seconds.
It was like... like having the power but not the training.
Like handing a sword to someone who had never fought before—technically they could use it, but not effectively.
I'll have to practice this, Jaune realized, making his shield move a few feet to the left before his concentration broke and it fell.
Lots of practice. Pyrrha made it look so easy, but she had been perfecting her Semblance for years.
Still, the fact that he could use it at all was incredible.
It gave him hope that the other Semblances might also be accessible.
Next on his list: Ren's Semblance.
Jaune didn't know the official name of Ren's Semblance—his friend had always been reserved about it—but he knew what it did.
Tranquility. It calmed emotions, suppressed one's presence, masked negative feelings that attracted Grimm.
Jaune closed his eyes again, reaching for that different presence within his soul.
This one was quieter than Polarity, more subtle. Like diving into cool water.
Ren. The boy who never spoke more than necessary, but whose actions always spoke louder than words.
The friend who had been there during some of Jaune's darkest nights, offering silent support when there were no words that could help.
Sure, they also had their disagreements, but nothing that couldn't be solved by talking.
Jaune felt something shift. His aura pulsed differently—not outward like when he used his amplification Semblance, but inward, wrapping around himself like a blanket.
The emotions he had been feeling—the slight anxiety about experimenting, the lingering pain of loss, the excitement of discovering new skills—all calmed abruptly.
They didn't disappear, but they became... distant. As if he were experiencing them through a layer of cotton.
It was deeply unsettling.
Jaune immediately stopped using the Semblance, and his emotions returned with force. His heart beat, his breathing slightly accelerated.
"Okay, that was weird," he murmured, rubbing his arms where goosebumps had appeared.
"I don't like how it feels to suppress my emotions. It's like... like being numb. Is this how Ren felt all the time?"
He wondered if his friend had struggled with that—constantly using his Semblance to stay calm, only to lose touch with his own feelings in the process.
It was a sad thought.
But the Semblance definitely worked. Jaune could see how it would be useful—especially in this world where there were no Grimm attracted by negative emotions, but where being calm in combat could save your life.
Not to mention that recently Ren had told him he could detect people's emotions.
Grimm had no emotions because they could detect them, but would monsters have them? It's something he must check.
He tried to do it, but felt nothing... maybe he did it wrong or maybe the monsters weren't eligible.
Anyway. He would practice it, but sparingly.
He couldn't test Nora's Semblance, so he moved on to the next one.
Ruby's Semblance.
Jaune's heart clenched just thinking about his best friend.
Ruby Rose, the fifteen-year-old girl who had been thrust into a leadership role too soon, who had carried that burden with a bright smile even when the weight crushed her.
Her Semblance was iconic. Petal Burst. Pure and raw speed, transforming into rose petals while moving faster than the eye could follow.
Jaune stood up, moving away from the wall and standing in the center of the alcove.
This would require more space.
He reached deep, finding that presence—bright and warm and almost frantically energetic, very much like Ruby herself had been.
"Okay, Ruby," Jaune whispered. "Let's see how fast you can make me go."
He activated the Semblance.
The effect was instant and absolutely terrifying.
The world exploded into a blur of motion. Jaune shot forward like a rocket, his body partially breaking down into a trail of whitish-gold petals (not red like Ruby's, his mind noted distantly).
He crossed the alcove in less than a second—
—And crashed straight into the opposite wall with a thunderous BOOM that echoed through the entire tenth floor.
"AUGH!" screamed Jaune as the impact sent him bouncing backward, falling awkwardly to the floor in a pile of tangled limbs and clanking armor.
His aura had absorbed most of the impact, but he still felt that.
His Scroll flickered—his aura had dropped to ninety-four percent.
"Ow, ow, ow," Jaune complained, pushing himself up to sit and rubbing his head.
"Okay, note to self: Ruby's Semblance requires much more steering practice than I thought. How the hell did she manage to move like that without crashing into things?"
Probably because Ruby had been using her Semblance since she was twelve and had had years to perfect control.
Whereas Jaune had just used it for the first time and had almost knocked himself out.
He laughed despite the pain, shaking his head.
"I definitely need a bigger open space to practice that. Maybe outside somewhere, not in dungeon corridors where I can crash into walls."
The sound of his laughter—and the crash of his collision—had apparently attracted unwanted attention.
Jaune heard a chorus of growls and clicks coming from the main corridor. Monsters. Probably attracted by the noise.
He sighed, standing up and picking up his shield. "Great. Just when I was taking a break."
Three Killer Ants ran into the alcove, their mandibles clicking aggressively.
Behind them came two War Shadows and a handful of Goblins.
Along with a new monster. A pair of Imps—small demons with pointed tails—came out from behind a rock about fifteen meters away.
They were sniffing the air, looking for prey.
Jaune dispatched them almost automatically—block, slash, finish. The monsters fell in seconds, posing no real threat.
And as he collected, he wondered if he would encounter the most dangerous monster of the floor.
He had no answers. But it didn't matter; he would continue killing more monsters regardless of what it was.
Jaune decided to continue with his experiments while handling the encounters. He could multitask.
Next on his list: Yang's Semblance.
Yang Xiao Long. His blonde, golden-haired friend who punched first and asked questions later, who fiercely protected her younger sister and who had the most explosive temper of the whole team.
Her Semblance was simple but devastating: Burn. It absorbed damage and converted it into power, making her hits stronger the more she was hurt.
Her hair literally caught fire when it was fully activated.
Jaune reached for that presence—fiery, fierce, passionate.
He tried to activate it while blocking a Kobold's attack.
Nothing happened.
He tried again, concentrating harder, imagining how Yang had looked when her Semblance was active—glowing red eyes, hair lit like a golden torch.
Still nothing.
Jaune frowned, dispatching the Kobold with a distracted cut.
"Why isn't it working? Polarity worked. Ren's Semblance worked. Ruby's worked—well, worked too well."
He tried again while fighting a group of Goblins. Reached for that burning presence, trying to activate it—
Nothing.
"Come on," Jaune muttered, his frustration growing. "What am I doing wrong?"
Then it occurred to him—maybe since he was a beginner or had the skill at a low level.
Yang's Semblance required him to absorb damage first. Maybe he couldn't just activate it with rage alone.
He had to take hits to build up energy.
And Jaune hadn't been taking hits. His shield had been protecting him completely, and these lower floor monsters weren't strong enough to really pressure his defenses.
"Okay, so maybe I need to be really in danger for it to work," Jaune reasoned.
"Or maybe I just can't use it yet. Not without understanding how it works better."
He mentally moved Yang's Semblance to the "needs more research" category.
Next: Blake.
Blake Belladonna. The mysterious girl with cat ears she had hidden, who read books constantly, who had fled a terrorist organization to try to do the right thing.
Her Semblance was Shadow. She created clones—solid copies of herself she could use as decoys, platforms, or even weapons if she infused them with elemental Dust.
Jaune tried to reach that presence—elusive, cunning, always thinking three steps ahead.
He tried to activate it while fighting a group of Needle Rabbits.
Nothing.
He tried to visualize how Blake used her Semblance—the way she left copies of herself when dodging, creating perfect illusions that could fool even experienced opponents.
He concentrated intensely, imagining splitting in two, creating a clone—
Still nothing.
"Ugh!" Jaune grunted with frustration, blocking another Needle Rabbit and sending it flying with a shield bash.
"Why isn't it working?"
He tried again and again while dispatching the rabbits, but Blake's Semblance simply didn't respond.
It was like knocking on a locked door that refused to open.
Finally, after dispatching the last Needle Rabbit, Jaune stopped, breathing heavily—not from physical exhaustion, but from pure mental frustration.
"Okay, so some Semblances work and others don't," he muttered, picking up the magic stones mechanically.
"Polarity works, albeit clumsily. Ren's works. Ruby's works too well. But Yang and Blake... nothing."
He sighed deeply, storing the last gems in his increasingly heavy pouch.
"Maybe there's some kind of condition to use certain Semblances. Or maybe I just need more practice. Or..."
Maybe he didn't have enough of a bond with them, which was a depressing thought, but Jaune can't deny the fact that he wasn't that close to the two of them.
He put negative thoughts aside and focused on the facts.
"Three out of... how many?" Jaune muttered to himself, counting mentally.
"Pyrrha, Ren, Ruby... Nora I can still test; Yang's didn't work; Blake neither. I'm still missing Weiss and probably others I don't even know I have."
He felt more than 8 semblances in his connection and couldn't identify 4 of these Semblances.
Which could mean that...
A terrifying and quite sad thought came to him. Every extra Semblance he had could mean that these could represent that someone had died;
Jaune could only hope it was by bond and not by death.
He shook his head sharply. Not now, Jaune. Focus on the present.
He continued deeper into the tenth floor, dispatching groups of monsters almost on autopilot while his mind kept turning over the Semblance problem.
His pouch was dangerously full now—he had had to rearrange the magic stones three times just to make room for more.
I definitely need to get more bags, he thought, adjusting the weight on his shoulder.
Or maybe some kind of dimensional storage item if they exist here. Although they probably cost a fortune.
A deep, guttural roar echoed from a side passage, interrupting his thoughts.
Jaune stopped, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.
That sound was different—deeper, more threatening than the high-pitched growls of Goblins or the hisses of War Shadows.
Something big was approaching.
Jaune pressed himself against the wall, watching cautiously as three massive figures emerged from the gloom.
Orcs.
"Oh, shit," Jaune exhaled, his eyes widening.
The creatures were huge—easily three meters tall, with muscular bodies that looked carved from solid rock.
Their heads were grotesque mixtures of human and porcine features, with yellowish tusks protruding from jutting jaws.
Each wore what looked like tattered animal skin as a loincloth, and their arms—thick as tree trunks—ended in hands the size of dinner plates.
These are mini-bosses, Jaune thought analytically, assessing the threat. Like Beringels or young Goliaths.
Massive brute force, probably slow but devastating if they hit you.
The lead Orc saw him and roared—a sound that echoed through the entire corridor and probably alerted every monster within a hundred-meter radius.
Then it charged, its steps making the ground shake.
The other two Orcs followed, moving surprisingly fast for their size.
Jaune tensed, his mind racing. I don't think it's smart to test the Orcs' strength with my shield, even though I know I can fully withstand it, because if I could withstand a Level 5, then this won't be a problem.
And then a crazy idea crossed his mind.
Weiss. Weiss's Semblance.
Weiss Schnee, the SDC heiress who had defied her family to do the right thing.
His beautiful friend who could be cold and distant but who had a warmer heart than she would ever admit.
Her Semblance was Glyphs—energy platforms she could use to propel herself, create barriers, or even summon manifestations of Grimm she had defeated.
I've never tried it, Jaune realized, dodging as the first Orc swung its massive fist at where he had been standing.
The blow impacted the wall with enough force to create spiderweb cracks in the stone.
But if there was ever a time to try it...
Jaune reached deep within himself, searching for that presence—elegant, refined, controlled with surgical precision.
"Come on, Ice Queen," he murmured, remembering the nickname Ruby always used. "Help me with this."
He extended his hand, visualizing the bright white glyphs Weiss created so easily—
And something responded.
A circle of whitish-gold light burst into the air in front of him, spinning with intricate runes pulsing with power.
It wasn't white like Weiss's glyphs—it was the color of his own aura—but the structure was unmistakable.
"It worked!" Jaune gasped, almost not believing his luck.
The second Orc charged at him, and Jaune acted on pure instinct. He created another glyph under his feet—
And was launched forward as if shot from a cannon.
"WHOOOOOAH!" screamed Jaune as he flew through the air, completely out of control.
His body spun, his armor clanking, and for a terrifying second he thought he was going to crash into the ceiling—
But then he passed over the Orcs, flying over their heads reaching six meters high, and landed behind them with a heavy thud that made his knees protest.
"Okay, that was AWESOME but also terrifying!" shouted Jaune, his heart beating like a drum.
"How the hell did Weiss control the direction of these? It's like being on a roller coaster without a seatbelt!"
The Orcs turned, confused by his sudden relocation. The leader roared again, clearly frustrated that his prey kept eluding him.
Jaune tried to create another glyph, this time visualizing the way Weiss used them as platforms to jump—
The glyph appeared under his feet, but instead of propelling him gently upward, it exploded with force, sending him shooting toward the ceiling at alarming speed.
"SHIT!" Jaune cursed, barely managing to create another glyph on the ceiling at the last second.
This one bounced him downward—straight toward the Orcs.
This isn't what I wanted but—wait, I can work with this!
Jaune unsheathed his broken sword mid-flight, and then did something he had seen Weiss do once during a combat exhibition.
He pressed his sword against his shield-sheath.
Click.
The two pieces of Crocea Mors joined with a satisfying sound of metal on metal, the sheath extending and reinforcing the broken blade, turning his sword into an improvised greatsword that was almost as long as he was tall.
His heart pounded, and nervousness coursed through his body.
He had never done this in actual combat—he had only practiced the basic mechanics in training sessions.
But now, falling toward three massive Orcs with enough momentum to punch through rock...
It worked!
Jaune swung the greatsword with all his Falna-amplified strength, aiming for the lead Orc.
The blade connected with the monster's shoulder with a deafening CRACK sound.
And then something went terribly wrong.
The glyph under his feet—which Jaune had completely forgotten—exploded with uncontained power at the very moment of impact.
The accumulated energy, with nowhere to go, burst in all directions like a mishandled Dust grenade.
"AHHH!" screamed Jaune as the explosion sent him flying backward, bouncing off the opposite wall with enough force to leave a body-shaped dent in the stone.
His aura absorbed most of the damage, but he still felt that. His Scroll flickered—eighty-nine percent.
But the Orcs had it worse.
The leader, hit by Jaune's sword attack and the glyph explosion simultaneously, simply... disintegrated.
Not into ash like normal monsters—into pieces. Its arm flew in one direction, its head in another, and its torso smashed against the wall before dissolving into black smoke.
The other two Orcs were thrown backward by the shockwave, smashing against the walls with enough force to create craters.
One of them began to dissolve immediately. The other tried to get up, stunned and staggering.
Jaune slid down the wall to the floor, panting. "What... what was that?"
He looked at his hands—still gripping the greatsword form of Crocea Mors—and then at the absolute mess he had just created.
There were scorch marks on the walls. Spiderweb cracks in the floor.
And two dead Orcs (one in the process of dying) that had been literally blown to pieces.
"I... didn't intend to do that," Jaune said weakly. "I just wanted to use a glyph as a platform and maybe cut the Orc with my greatsword. Not... not that."
The surviving Orc finally recovered enough to stand, roaring with rage and pain.
It charged at Jaune, clearly beyond rational thought, just pure animal fury.
Jaune barely had time to separate his sword from his shield-sheath and raise his defense before the Orc's massive fist smashed against his shield.
The impact resonated up his arm like a gong being struck.
His aura glowed brightly, absorbing the blow, but Jaune could feel the brute force behind it.
Definitely Level 2 in strength, Jaune cataloged analytically, even as he was pushed back several feet by the impact.
Rose wasn't kidding. These guys can seriously hurt Level 2 adventurers if they aren't careful.
But Jaune wasn't a normal Level 1 adventurer. He was a trained Huntsman with years of combat experience, active aura, and a Falna that apparently made him stronger than the stats suggested.
He dodged the Orc's next fist—a wild, uncontrolled blow born of desperation rather than skill—and counterattacked with a clean cut through the monster's elbow.
His broken sword cut through muscle and bone like hot butter.
The Orc's arm separated, falling to the floor with a wet thud before dissolving into ashes.
The Orc howled, more in surprise than pain—apparently these monsters didn't process trauma like normal living beings—and tried to hit Jaune with its remaining arm.
Jaune simply ducked under the swing and cut its legs.
The Orc crashed to the ground, and before it could even try to recover, Jaune cut off its head with a clean, efficient strike.
Ashes. Three massive magic stones, each the size of a chicken egg, glowing with a deep purple hue.
And three drop items—pieces of thick, leathery hide that were probably worth a fortune.
Jaune stood there for a moment, panting, processing what had just happened.
"Okay," he finally said, his voice slightly shaking. "So I can use Weiss's Semblance. I can definitely use it. But I clearlyhave no idea how to control it properly. I almost killed myself and accidentally blew the Orcs to pieces."
He laughed—a slightly hysterical laugh that echoed in the destroyed corridor.
"Weiss would kill me if she knew I was using her Semblance like this. 'Jaune Arc, glyphs require precision and control, not just launching yourself like a lunatic and hoping for the best.'"
His imitation of Weiss's voice was terrible, but it made him feel a little better.
He carefully stored the magic stones and drop items—his pouch was now dangerously full, practically overflowing—and took a moment to check his status.
Aura: 89%. Not bad considering he had been thrown against a wall by his own accidental explosion.
Stamina: Still good. Barely tired.
Mental state: A bit shaken by almost blowing himself up, but otherwise fine.
"I need to practice that Semblance in an open space before using it in combat again," Jaune decided firmly.
"Preferably somewhere where I can't cause massive collateral damage if things go wrong."
He separated his greatsword back into sword and shield-sheath, storing the broken sword in its usual place.
The feel of the greatsword had been... interesting. More reach, more cutting power, but also clumsier and harder to maneuver in tight spaces.
Something to consider for the future, Jaune thought. If I manage to fully repair Crocea Mors, maybe I can use the greatsword form more effectively.
He was about to continue deeper into the tenth floor when he heard something—a familiar click-click-click sound that made his heart sink.
Oh no. Not again.
Jaune turned just in time to see a horde of monsters emerging from multiple corridors simultaneously. Killer Ants.
War Shadows. Needle Rabbits. Even some Goblins and Kobolds mixed in.
At least twenty monsters, all converging on him, probably attracted by the noise of his battle with the Orcs and the accidental explosion.
"Seriously?" Jaune complained, raising his shield. "Can't I have even five minutes of rest?"
The monsters charged, moving like a wave of claws, teeth, and malice.
Jaune sighed, planted his feet, and prepared for another combat. At least these are easier than the Orcs.
I just have to—
And then something flickered inside him.
It wasn't like the other Semblances—it wasn't deliberately reaching for a familiar presence.
It was more like... like something had awakened on its own, responding to his need without him consciously calling it.
His aura exploded outward, glowing so brightly he had to squint against the whitish-gold glare.
And then, out of thin air, swords appeared.
Not physical swords—swords made of solid light, of the same whitish-gold shade as his aura, glowing with barely contained energy.
There were dozens of them, floating in the air around Jaune like a halo of lethal blades.
"What the hell—?" began Jaune, but he didn't have time to finish the thought.
The light swords launched forward like guided missiles, each seeking a different target with impossible precision.
One sword pierced directly through a Killer Ant, puncturing its exoskeleton as if it were paper.
The ant dissolved into ashes before the sword disappeared into particles of light.
Two more swords cut through a War Shadow simultaneously, the dark creature not even having a chance to dodge before being annihilated.
The Needle Rabbits tried to jump and dodge, but the light swords chased them, adjusting their trajectories mid-flight as if they had minds of their own.
In less than ten seconds, the entire horde had been decimated.
Jaune stood there, panting, surrounded by a field of glowing magic stones and slowly fading ashes.
"What... what was that?" he whispered, looking at his hands as if they belonged to someone else.
Another Semblance. It had to be. But whose?
He closed his eyes, reaching deep within himself, trying to find the source of that power.
There were so many presences now, so many echoes of lost people, that it was difficult to disentangle which was which.
But as he concentrated, he found one—different from the others. Brighter. More... artificial, somehow.
Like it wasn't completely human.
His heart stopped.
No.
It can't be.
But as he reached that presence, as he felt its warmth and light and pure enthusiasm, he knew exactly whose it was.
Penny.
Penny Polendina. The android girl who had been so genuinely kind, so sincerely friendly, that Jaune sometimes forgot she was an android, because she was a person more human than even humans.
The girl who could have had a life living in her new human body, who had chosen to become the Winter Maiden despite how dangerous it was, who had—
The memory hit Jaune like a sledgehammer.
The platform of the void world. Penny bleeding, from the attack of that bitch Cinder.
Her green eyes looking at him with absolute trust and absolute sadness.
"I trust you."
And he had thrust the sword.
He had killed her.
To save her from Cinder, yes. To give the Maiden powers to Winter instead of letting the enemy take them.
But his hands had held the sword. His strength had pierced her human heart.
He had killed Penny. And despite that, now she was helping him.
If he concentrated enough, he could feel a warm embrace.
Jaune's knees weakened. He almost fell, only catching himself against the corridor wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Penny," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Oh, by the Brothers, Penny. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry—"
The two distant Orcs, noticing his distress, roared and began charging toward him.
Jaune barely registered them. He was too lost in the memory—the weight of the sword in his hands, the look of gratitude on Penny's face, the horrible sound of metal piercing synthetic flesh.
The Orcs got closer, their steps making the ground shake.
Fifty feet. Forty. Thirty.
And then something inside Jaune broke—not in a bad way, but like a dam finally giving way after holding back too much pressure for too long.
His aura exploded outward in a wave of whitish-gold light, and with it came swords.
Dozens of solid light swords, each perfectly formed, each glowing with that same translucent radiance.
They materialized in the air around Jaune like a swarm of angry wasps, hovering and orbiting, waiting for his command.
He didn't consciously think about ordering them. He didn't have to.
The swords simply knew.
They launched forward in a storm of cutting energy, converging on the two Orcs from all angles simultaneously.
The monsters stood no chance. The swords cut them to pieces in less than a second, so completely that when the creatures dissolved into ashes, it wasn't even clear where one ended and the other began.
The swords returned to Jaune, orbiting him protectively for a moment, before dissolving one by one into fading light.
Jaune slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his legs finally giving out.
He buried his face in his hands, feeling tears burning in his eyes.
"Solid Light Builder," Jaune whispered giving it a name to honor Penny's memory, the name coming to him instinctively as he held that presence within his soul.
"That was your Semblance, wasn't it, Penny? Creating things from pure energy. Swords, beams, whatever you needed. That's why you could generate those floating blades even when your physical weapons were destroyed."
It made sense now that he thought about it. Penny had always been able to create weapons out of thin air, generating energy swords when she needed them.
He just had never known it was her Semblance rather than some built-in android capability.
And now he had that Semblance. Now he could do what she had done.
Because he had killed her.
"I'm so sorry," Jaune whispered to the presence within his soul, to the memory of his friend who would never answer.
"I didn't want to. But you asked... you trusted me to make that choice. And I..."
He wiped his eyes roughly, pushing himself back to his feet. No. He couldn't fall apart now.
Not here, in the middle of a dungeon where more monsters could appear at any moment.
He would cry again properly later. When he was safe. When he had privacy.
He stood there for a moment longer, letting the emotions wash through him—grief for his loss, gratitude for her sacrifice, awe at the gift she had left him.
Jaune then took a deep breath, straightened up, and began collecting the magic stones scattered around him.
I have five Semblances I can use now, Jaune thought as he worked. Polarity, Tranquility, Petal Burst, Glyphs, and Solid Light Builder.
Six if you count my own amplification Semblance. I still wasn't sure if I could use Yang and Blake's Semblances, but even if I couldn't, the ones I could use were too useful and incredible.
But I need to practice. Lots of practice. I almost killed myself with the glyphs, and I have no idea how much control I have over Penny's light swords.
I can't just rely on them in combat until I know what I'm doing.
His pouch was now so full he could barely close the top flap.
Magic stones, drop items, even that golden egg from the Jack Bird—all piled to the brim.
Definitely time to go back, Jaune decided, checking the time on his Scroll. It was almost eleven in the morning.
He had been in the dungeon for four hours, and although he wasn't physically exhausted, mentally he was starting to feel the strain.
Besides, I need to sell all these magic stones and drop items.
Rose said the Guild buys everything, and considering how much I've collected, I should have a good payout.
And maybe, he thought hopefully, enough money to start saving to repair Crocea Mors.
With that motivating thought, Jaune began his ascent back to the surface, his mind already cataloging everything he had learned in his first real dive into the Dungeon.
It had been a productive morning. Terrifying at times, yes. He had almost killed himself with his new and now own experimental Semblances at least twice.
But productive.
And that, Jaune decided as he climbed the stairs back to the ninth floor, was what mattered.
Timeline - 2 Days until the Great Feud.
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