I awaken to the chill of absence. Silence greets me, soft and oppressive.

I am alone.

For a moment, I pretend not to care, hoping the bitter pain inside my guts to be wrong. But the truth insists on making itself known. Her things—few as they were—are gone, vanished without a trace. A bitter chuckle escapes my lips, a hollow attempt at defiance. I splash cold water on my face, as though it might wash away the remnants of restless dreams and bring clarity to this new day.

It doesn’t.

Not in the mood to linger in this now empty space, I rummage through the gear I picked up yesterday. Two items catch my attention. I start with the [Beginner’s Leather Gloves].

[New Effect Discovered] Here We Are: Beginner’s set 4/3.

Experience gain increased by 20%

All pieces now provide 5 armor.

As I slip the gloves on, my armor shifts subtly. The texture of bark melds into the brown leather, transforming it into something reminiscent of Treant skin. The gloves don’t just look robust—they feel it, like the weight and solidity of ancient wood. Tiny branches and glossy green leaves sprout along the hide of the entire armor, their vibrant hues almost alive against the earthy tones.

The other item I just cannot ignore is the [Ring of Immortality].

[Ring of Immortality]

Lethal damage will instead heal the wearer for 10% of his max Hp.

I slide it onto my finger and feel a faint, pulsing warmth. A subtle sense of safety settles over me, the kind that whispers, You’re not as fragile as you once were.

With these equipped, I gather my belongings, settle my bill, and walk my as onto the first ship to Beacon Academy.

Luckily, the sight awaiting me is enough to lift the cloud that has been hanging over my head.

Beacon is a marvel.

Perched atop a jagged coastline, the academy rises like something out of a dream. Its silhouette is commanding, yet it holds a strange, otherworldly elegance. The tallest tower radiates a soft, emerald glow, the light so vibrant it paints the clouds in shifting shades of green. Rivers seem to spill directly from the academy’s heart, winding their way over undulating hills and vanishing into the distant horizon.

My fellow passengers gather at the ship’s railings as if enchanted. I can’t blame them. The academy is absurdly grandiose, almost mocking the laws of physics with its whimsical arches and impossibly balanced turrets. Moss and creeping ivy claim parts of the stone, lending it the appearance of something ancient and eternal—like it was born from the earth itself rather than built.

I scan the faces around me. Strangely, most are unfamiliar. Considering today is meant for would-be students to arrive, it’s odd not to recognize anyone, but the thought drifts away as quickly as it came. The moment the ship touches solid ground, I step off, my scroll in hand. Administrative staff greet me, directing me to the front desk with practiced formality.

There I find a familiar face.

Not a gentle face, not a welcoming face. But familiar, nonetheless.

Glynda Goodwitch stands visibly impatient as she adjusts her glasses. Her rigid posture softens half-heartedly when our eyes meet. She looks as though she’s trying to relax but has forgotten how.

“Vesper Bolt?” she asks, her tone clipped. She steps forward, crossing her arms as she inspects me with a quick, critical eye. “Not many students here at Beacon gain entry through a recommendation letter—let alone one written by the director himself.”

Her gaze lingers, scanning me, sharp and unimpressed. My own eyes dart over her for a few seconds too long, and I hope she can’t see how thoroughly impressed I am. She’s… A lot.

“Is it just me?” I ask, breaking the silence and glancing back at the stream of students being led in the opposite direction.

“For this batch? Yes,” Glynda replies, her tone brisk. “But we’ll be conducting entrance tests throughout the entire day. Of course, that won’t be a concern for you.” She pauses deliberately, letting the words settle like an unspoken challenge. “Since your abilities have already been proven, there’s no need to send you to the probationary dorms. Come. We’ll get you situated for now. You may take any room in the first-year building until your team assignment—”

“Wait,” I interrupt, instantly regretting my choice. “Would it… be possible for me to take the entrance exam? Like everyone else?”

Glynda’s gaze sharpens, her brow arching ever so slightly. She hums, low and skeptical. “You do realize that if your performance is deemed unsatisfactory, you will not be admitted to Beacon altogether?”

I open my mouth, ready to respond—but another voice beats me to it.

“Oh, Glynda, must you always be so… grim?”

The voice is smooth, almost playful, and it comes from behind me. A, ashen-haired man steps forward, his expression calm and amused as he places a hand on my shoulder. “If I, the director himself, saw fit to pen a recommendation, surely young Vesper here is more than capable of completing a simple test.”

His gaze locks with mine, and there’s something disarming about it—a mix of curiosity, amusement and quiet confidence that leaves me uncertain whether he’s testing me or reassuring me. If I’d been wavering before, his presence alone seals my decision. It’s clear I don’t really have a choice at all.

“I’ll do it,” I say firmly. “I’ll take the test, just like the others.”

“Splendid!” Ozpin exclaims, spinning his cane with a flourish. He turns on his heel, already walking away as though the matter is settled. “Oh, and Glynda,” he calls over his shoulder, “I’ve made some adjustments to this year’s introduction, please do make sure everything runs smoothly.”

Glynda sighs audibly, the sound somewhere between exasperation and resignation. “Ozpin, with all due respect, the first test begins in twenty minutes.”

He waves her off without breaking his pace. “Plenty of time! I’m just making sure we’re keeping them on their toes.”

Glynda mutters something under her breath, then turns back to me with a look that says she’s calculating the exact amount of trouble I’m about to cause her. “Follow me,” she says, already walking toward the next set of doors.

I follow, suppressing a sigh of my own, not knowing if I just got into trouble or saved myself a lot of it.

❖

I stand alone on a small stone platform, the air filled with silence. The few others I can glimpse are distant, scattered around the vast, arena-like chamber we’ve been led into. The scale of the room is disorienting. After just a few moments of waiting, the square of stone beneath me begins to tremble, and with a sudden tremor, it starts sinking, dragging me deeper into the earth below the academy.

The descent feels endless. The grinding of ancient mechanisms fills the narrow shaft, amplifying the oppressive weight of the stone walls pressing in around me. After what must have been a full minute—long enough to make me feel like I’m being buried alive—the platform shudders to a halt. In front of me, a narrow path stretches forward. It’s made up of tiled squares, each adorned with a glowing blue dust crystal, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

I stand, frozen, waiting. For instructions, for some voice to explain what I’m meant to do. But there’s nothing.

Then the wall behind me shifts with a low, grinding groan. The sound of stone opening like a rusty cage, giving way to something worse. A feral growl rips through the silence, and a wolf-like Grimm lurches into the dim light, its eyes blazing with predatory hunger.

My legs move before my brain does. I throw myself forward, my boots landing hard on the first tile. The blue crystal beneath my feet shifts to red, glowing with an ominous light. I don’t have time to think about what that means—not with the beast’s breath hot on my heels. I simply keep going, tile after tile, as fast as my legs allow me to. But when the tile first tile I stepped on shatters, the meaning becomes horrifyingly clear.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The tiles are collapsing. One by one. A chain reaction triggered by my every step.

The more tiles that fall, the more desperate the Grimm gets. And the closer it gets, the faster I have to move, each step accelerating the destruction beneath me. It’s a vicious cycle. A self-fulfilling trap designed to force me to run until there’s nothing left to run on.

The path stretches out endlessly ahead, offering me turns and options every so often—until it doesn’t. A three-way junction appears, and for a split second, my brain struggles to process the chaos converging there. Another path joins mine, and from the corner of my eye, I catch a blur of motion. White, orange and black streaks across my vision, and I realize it’s a girl—a tall, broad-shouldered Faunus, her path disintegrating under her as she races head-on toward me, a Grimm hot on her trail.

Our eyes lock as we meet at the intersection. There’s no time to talk, but we both understand the problem instantly.

One path ahead. Two runners.

“Trust me—that’s not a good idea!” I shout, my voice cutting through the sound of falling rock as she crouches, preparing to leap past me. Something in my tone gives her pause, and instead, she adjusts her pace to match mine.

Together, we sprint toward the shared turn, our movements synchronized by sheer necessity. The snarls of the Grimm grow deafening behind us, but I don’t look back. Instead, I draw one of my tomahawks, the weapon a comforting weight in my hand.

As we are about to step together into the narrow sideway, I throw the tomahawk, the blade spinning in a silver arc, bouncing off the wall and pushing on ahead. Without missing a beat, I stop, slowing myself just enough for the Grimm to close the gap. It’s a reckless move, but there’s no other way.

The girl glances back, her expression flickering with disbelief as I plant myself in the center of the intersection, directly in the path of both oncoming beasts. “Go!” I shout, and to her credit, she doesn’t hesitate. She pushes forward, her long legs eating up the distance as the collapsing path nips at her heels.

It’s a strange sensation—fist-fighting dogs mid-air, surrounded by crumbling stone and the threat of falling into my end. My fists and feet connect with fur and bone, the impact weightless, but it’s not enough to stop them. The snarling grows louder, and for a fleeting moment, I feel the weight of defeat.

Then I reach for it—that strange, instinctive connection to my weapon. It’s like grasping at threads in the dark, but they respond. The tomahawk becomes an anchor in my mind, and my Semblance surges through. In a flash of light and sheer will, I vanish from where I stand and reappear alongside the weapon, landing just ahead of the Faunus girl.

She stumbles slightly as I materialize in her path but recovers quickly, throwing me a look that’s equal parts shock and grudging respect. Behind us, the remnants of the pathway crumble entirely, taking the Grimm with them into the abyss.

“Slow down!” I bark, breathless. My heart pounds painfully, each beat pushing against my ribs as I blink away the dizziness brought on by the teleportation.

To my surprise, she obeys without hesitation. Instantly. Her pace shifts into an almost casual stride, as though perfectly understanding my intent. I’m the one lagging behind now, struggling to match the unhurried rhythm as we carefully navigate the remaining tiles, no longer rushing but pacing ourselves with precision.

And yet, calling it comfortable would be a lie.

The air between us brims with tension. Her predatory gaze, simmering with silent rage, sets me on edge. Her lithe, muscular frame dominates the narrow space, exuding a palpable sense of danger. With nothing else to distract me, my eyes linger on her, drawn by the sheer presence she commands.

She is tall and lean, her sun-kissed skin adorned with sleek black stripes that could be mistaken for tattoos. Wild, snowy white hair frames a sharp, angular face, before falling down her back like an untamed waterfall, an avalanche of rough fluff.. Her feline ears flick intermittently, while her striped tail sways behind her swinging hips with a nonchalance that doesn’t match the murder on her golden eyes.

Her armor is intricate, stone-like plates accentuating her hips, legs, neck and forearms. Yet her shredded abdomen remains bare, revealed by the cropped white top she wears. It’s a jarring contrast—both warrior and beast, and an immense sense of pride in both.

“Rain,” she growls, her voice low and guttural like thunder.

I blink, confused. My gaze flicks to the stone ceiling. “I don’t think so…?”

She raises a single eyebrow, the sharp angle of it almost mocking. Before I can stumble further, we reach an intersection. The fleeting chaos of other students rushing in the distance provides a momentary distraction, their footsteps echoing like whispers through the labyrinth.

“What you did…” she coughs, her words thick with an accent that clings like tar. “Very brave. Very good.”

Her praise lands awkwardly, foreign and jagged under her cold breath. I nod in silence, unsure of her intentions. Who is she? What is her game? The tension coils tighter with every step as we navigate the shifting tiles. Each one feels like a gamble between safety and oblivion. I count the seconds between moves, measuring our progress, and pray silently that no one will appear from the opposite direction.

Finally, the corridor spills into a wide, square chamber. The floor here is unmarked, tiled but plain, offering a brief break from the constant dread. Others filter in after us, one by one, until four pairs have gathered at the chamber’s heart. The moment is eerily still, the walls of the labyrinth groaning as they shift, sealing all exits.

I scan the room, my eyes darting from face to face. Blake is there, standing beside a fiery blur of blonde energy. Our gazes lock across the space, without time for words.

Then the tiles light up, a sudden puzzle of color—red, blue, a fleeting mosaic of danger and opportunity. I glance down, but by the time I process the signal, the glow has already faded. I have no idea where I’m standing—or what comes next.

A sharp impact sends me flying sideways. My partner, with powerful precision, kicks me into the wall. Pain blooms in my ribs like a thunderclap, the force akin to being struck by a gorilla. Dust and grit rain down, and as I push upright, I realize her gamble paid off. When the tiles rumble, half of them vanish into the abyss, leaving only screams to mark the first fallen pair.

Immediately after, a grinding noise draws all eyes upward as the ceiling splits apart, revealing a swirling cloud of dark wings. A swarm of small, bat-like Grimm descends, their red eyes gleaming with feral hunger. The tiles light up again, and this time, I don’t falter. I glance down—safe. But my partner’s tile isn’t.

Worse, now everyone understands how the test works.

As my Faunus teammate leaps toward an isolated patch of safety, the third team makes their move. A towering, bald man with deep, onyx skin lunges after her, his landing shaking the fragile platform she aims towards. His intentions are clear: knock her out of the game.

I don’t hesitate. Deep breath. Focus. One of my axes leaves my hand in a spinning arc, the other gripped tightly to guide it. As the weapon slices through the air, I throw myself into the void, heart pounding.

The instant the axe strikes its mark, my Semblance activates, and we switch places. The look of shock on his face as he falls into the darkness below is a memory I’ll treasure forever. My partner lands beside me, nimble and unscathed, her golden eyes gleaming with approval.

We turn to face our next opponent: a short, pale girl with razor-sharp eyes and a colossal, metallic bow in her hands.

“Agh!” she groans, notching an arrow. “Why do I always have to do everything?”

Before she can fire, one of the Grimm swoops down, its claws grazing her neck. She stumbles, just as Yang barrels through like a storm. The blonde fighter’s punch lands with such devastating force it sends the girl ricocheting off the wall, her elimination as brutal as it is swift.

The Grimm swarm closes in on us now, their shrill cries growing louder as they circle our precarious island. I waste no time. Pulling out [The Contender], one shot is enough to turn most of them into a memory, one that won’t allow the surviving pests to get any closer.

My partner whistles low, an impressed note cutting through the chaos.

“Not bad,” she mutters, her tail flicking behind her.

At last, a pause stretches before us, strange and heavy, creating a fragile moment of calm.

“Normally, at this point, the test would be considered over. However,” Glynda’s voice reverberates from all directions. “Director Ozpin has requested a more… thorough examination of your group. So, congratulations on your success. And please, do continue.”

For a moment, excitement stirs within me. The adrenaline courses hot in my veins, pumping steadily, my muscles ready for more action. Maybe I’m even eager to prove myself, wondering if I can be the last one standing. But Blake takes one look at me, then down at the never-ending darkness, and leaps off the edge.

And of course—of course—I follow.

What would be a mortal fall for anyone else is little more than a rough slide for someone with an aura. The cavernous drop funnels us into a circular chute, spitting us out into a sleek, surprisingly modern underground facility. Fluorescent lights buzz faintly, the sterile glow contrasting the chaos of moments ago.

Three of the figures from earlier linger in the open space. Their faces are drawn with defeat, their silence heavier than words. Blake lands lightly, her boots hitting the floor with feline precision. Before I can say anything, she’s already rolling forward, putting distance between us as if I might shackle her down.

I jog to catch up. “Are we really doing this right now?”

Her steps falter, but only slightly. When she finally stops and turns, the storm on her face leaves me silent. Anger, sadness, shame—they’re all there, raw and unfiltered, cracking through the mask she’s always so careful to wear.

“Leave me alone!” she yells, her voice splintering. “What are you even doing here?!”

I exhale slowly, trying to keep my tone calm. “I thought that was the plan, Danger. You and me, partners in crime.”

She bites her lip, her body trembling as though holding something back. “No… I didn’t… I can’t! I didn’t come all the way to Beacon to end up following anybody else. This is supposed to be my life, my dream!” Her hair falls like a curtain around her face as she looks down, hiding from my eyes. “For you… maybe this is just some kind of game. But I’m not here to enjoy myself. This is important to me, Ad—”

Blake cuts herself off violently, as if the name she almost said scalded her tongue. Without another word, she spins on her heel and runs away, leaving me standing there in the empty space, suspended between hurt and confusion.

I take a long moment, letting my hands drop to my sides. The absence of my gun feels oddly comforting. My thoughts are still swirling when a rumbling voice interrupts them.

“Ah, I see. Trouble with female. Happens to many. It will get better once you taller, less puny.”

I glance over my shoulder and find the towering Faunus woman standing there, arms crossed, her striped tail flicking lazily behind her.

“Please,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “At least tell me you just… jumped down behind me.”

She snorts, a low, guttural sound. “No. Lost very bad. Got punched in face. Very humiliating.”

❖

Later, the staff gathers us all in the auditorium. The rows stretch endlessly, packed with tired faces, some victorious, others crestfallen. I marvel at the sheer number of us—dozens of students crammed together, far more than Beacon typically admits.

We each receive a small bracelet, though its significance remains unclear. I turn the golden band over in my hand, its polished surface catching the light. As Ozpin takes the stage, his unhurried steps and faint smile draw the attention of every person in the room.

“You may be wondering why I’ve gathered all of you here,” he begins, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable authority. “Looking around, you may even see familiar faces—those of students you have already defeated.”

Beside me, my Faunus partner nods subtly, as though confirming his words through my presence.

“As you know, teams at this academy are traditionally composed of students chosen at random,” Ozpin continues, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. “However, depending on your performance in today’s tests, you may find that your bracelets… differ slightly.”

I glance down at mine again, its golden sheen catching the light. Then my gaze shifts to the girl beside me. Her bracelet is different—smaller, plainer, its silver surface dull and unadorned compared to mine.

“I guess you can’t always end up at the top,” she says lightly, her voice carrying no malice.

I look up, embarrassed at having been caught staring. Before I can stammer out an apology, I’m struck by her emerald-green eyes, vibrant and kind, and the way her blood-red hair catches the light. She… Pyrrha Nikos.

“I-I’m sorry,” I manage, my voice awkward. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

She laughs, a soft, easy sound that takes the edge off my embarrassment.

Before I can fumble further, Ozpin’s voice draws us back.

“Those with golden bracelets—congratulations. You are officially students of Beacon Academy. For those with silver bracelets, this is where the fun begins.”

A ripple of confusion stirs through the crowd. The tension in the room swells as murmurs of unease and excitement spread like wildfire. Ozpin lets the moment stretch before continuing, a faint note of amusement threading his tone.

“This year, we’re doing things differently. Rather than assigning teams at random, those wearing golden bracelets will have the privilege of forming their own teams. You will have until the end of the week to choose. For those of you with silver bracelets, this is your chance to prove yourselves. Show your worth, and find someone who values your talents enough to invite you to join their team—and our academy.”

The room erupts. The noise is a chaotic blend of hurried whispers, nervous laughter, and sharp, urgent discussions. Silver-bracelet students exchange determined glances, while golden-banded ones suddenly find themselves under intense scrutiny.

I glance at the red-haired girl beside me. Her eyes are steady, her smile warm, but the firm set of her jaw betrays her resolve. Before I can even think of what to say, a storm of movement overtakes the room. Students rise in a rush, their focus shifting to golden bracelets like wolves circling prey.

I feel the crush of urgency too and instinctively reach out to her—but before my hand even makes contact, I feel a firm, deliberate grip on my wrist.

“What are you—”

A mechanical voice chimes, emanating from the bracelets.

“Vesper, Rain. Your affiliation has been confirmed. Please enjoy your time together at Beacon Academy.”

“Hmmm…” The Faunus beside me nods, her expression calm. “Works very well. Very easy. Now we know what to do.”

She releases my wrist unbothered by the brewing storm around us. My confusion only deepens as a wall of silver-bracelet students surges forward, their eager, hungry gazes locked on us. In the distance, I catch a glimpse of Pyrrha walking out with her head down, her signature red hair disappearing like a flame swallowed by the wind.

Rain remains unfazed, her steely eyes betraying no emotion behind their intensity.

I swallow hard, my pulse racing as the circle around us tightens. At this moment, as desperation and tension collide, one thought takes over:

Thank God I’m not holding my gun.