Author's Note
Hey guys, Rosesaiyan2 here again! Hopefully, you all enjoyed the last chapter. Starting with this update, I'm going to introduce a brand-new section called Q & A either at the beginning or at the end of each chapter, so look forward to that!
As I've mentioned before, the Dark Elves really don't care much for humans in this story, primarily due to the horrific, inhuman ways they've been treated in the past. That said, they aren't entirely opposed to working alongside them on occasion when circumstances demand it. If you're wondering how deep the rabbit hole goes: yes, Cinder and Salem play massive, deeply personal roles in why the Dark Elves were subjected to such cruelty. So you can only imagine what's going to happen when the Elves finally discover those two-they'll be out for absolute blood.
Anyway, that's mostly it for the housekeeping. Onto the story!
Disclaimer: Rosesaiyan2 (Wattpad) / Novaflame6_Badal (Webnovel) / Novablade67 (FanFiction.net) does not own Dragon Ball / Dragon Ball Super, Black Clover, or RWBY and their respective characters. Those properties belong entirely to Akira Toriyama/Toei Animation, Yuki Tabata/Studio Pierot, and Rooster Teeth/Monty Oum respectively. The author only owns his original characters, excluding Tarro and Daikon, which he has permission to use via ComparedDreadx.

Opening: Rising Hope (Irregular at Magic Highschool)
Visuals: Swap the characters in the opening for the characters in this story.. same with the world.
Chapter Nine: Welcome to Beacon - Reunion
The city of Vale possessed a unique, kinetic quality in the weeks leading up to the Vytal Festival-an atmosphere of anticipation that felt almost architectural. It was woven into the bright festival bunting draped over every lamppost, the fresh coats of paint on the market stalls, and the way strangers navigated the crowded streets. Gone was the guarded, inward focus of ordinary daily life; in its place was the open, buzzing attention of people who had traveled from afar for a purpose that transcended mere commerce.
It was, Berethon Albanar reflected quietly, a genuinely beautiful city when it put its mind to it.
He walked beside his wife through the outer avenues curving toward the academy grounds, moving with the unhurried stride of a man who had learned through long decades that rushing accomplished far less than people believed. Two of his aides flanked them-Valvedern marching ahead in his crimson armor, carrying the sharp, controlled alertness of a vanguard general who took his duties with absolute, unyielding seriousness; and Zero trailing slightly behind in the deep emerald green of the royal guard, quieter than his brother but no less intensely watchful.
Berethon hadn't explicitly ordered them to travel in formal formation. They had organized themselves that way instinctively, simply because it was how they moved whenever their sovereigns stepped out in public, a habit so deeply ingrained it had become their natural baseline.
As often happened when he watched young people commit themselves to something far larger than their own comfort, Berethon felt a quiet stirring in his chest-an emotion that lacked a precise name. Pride was somewhere in the mix, but gratitude was closer. It was that specific, humbling warmth that comes from watching the next generation step fully into who they were meant to be, a process that was simultaneously ordinary and extraordinary.
"Do you suppose they're well?" Hyatan asked softly beside him, her gaze drifting toward the horizon where the academy spires rose against the sky.
"Sybyrh's periodic reports have been entirely positive. I trust her assessment completely."
"Her assessment is strictly professional," Hyatan noted, a mother's intuition coloring her tone. "I'm asking about the other kind of well."
He weighed the question for a moment. "I think," he said thoughtfully, "they are doing precisely what we hoped they would do-learning things we could never teach them ourselves, and forging bonds we could never have orchestrated. Whether it's been comfortable for them? Probably not always." He glanced sideways at her. "That was rather the point of sending them, wasn't it?"
She emitted a small, nuanced sound that was neither agreement nor dissent-her signature response whenever he stated a valid truth that she still held private feelings about.
Then, he looked up.
The Atlesian armada was the first thing that caught his eye-not merely one or two scout ships, but an entire fleet. Their sleek, militaristic configuration was as instantly recognizable to him as a family crest, representing the deliberate, imposing force of a nation that believed overwhelming display was a valid form of diplomacy.
Berethon let out a slow, heavy sigh through his nose.
"James," he muttered.
"James," Hyatan confirmed dryly.
"He always did have a penchant for-"
"Yes."
"Even when we were young, he harbored this absolute obsession with-"
"Yes, dear."
Up ahead, Valvedern spoke up with careful military precision. "Will this presence complicate matters, your Majesties?"
Hyatan answered before Berethon could formulate a reply. "Not a complication, Valvedern. Just a conversation that was bound to happen eventually, merely moved up on the schedule without our permission." She turned her amber eyes toward her husband. "We should head directly to the academy first."
"The boys can wait a few more hours," Berethon agreed.
"They've waited years. A few hours won't break them."
"True." He resumed his steady pace. "Besides, it will mean much more when we finally lay eyes on them in their new environment-right after we finish dealing whatever it is James wishes to discuss."
Zero, who had remained silent until now, offered a quiet inquiry from the rear. "Shall I dispatch a runner ahead to notify Captain Sybyrh of our arrival?"
"She already knows we're coming," Hyatan said with a faint, knowing smile. "She always does."
Beacon Academy - The Headmaster's Office
The spacious office at the apex of Beacon's main tower currently housed four occupants in addition to Ozpin. It was slightly more than the room usually held with ease, yet the sprawling, circular study absorbed the crowd without a hint of friction.
Glynda stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing the quiet, composed mask of a woman actively managing her internal reaction to an ongoing situation. Sybyrh positioned herself closer to the door, adopting the absolute, statuesque stillness of a soldier trained to hold a post indefinitely and doing so without a shred of self-consciousness. Tarro sat comfortably in one of the armchairs Ozpin had gestured toward, carrying the easy alertness of a young warrior accustomed to rooms where sociopolitical dynamics were still actively being forged.
Sybyrh's gaze remained fixed on the sky beyond the glass.
"The general is certainly ensuring his presence is noted," she remarked softly, more to herself than to the room at large.
"James loves Vale this time of year," Ozpin replied. It wasn't a genuine explanation, but rather the structural outline of one.
"He loves bringing an army to Vale," Sybyrh corrected dryly.
"He rarely draws a distinction between the two," Glynda observed with the specific, world-weary flatness of someone who had survived years of similar debates.
Sybyrh considered this. "My people once had leaders who failed to recognize that distinction," she noted. "They did not endure. The populace lost faith in them, because wielding force where measured judgment should prevail teaches the citizens that force is the only tool their leaders possess." She turned her amber-gold eyes back to the window. "It is an instructive lesson. Unfortunately, it tends to be quite expensive to learn."
Tarro studied her thoughtfully from his chair. "That is a remarkably mature perspective for someone our age."
"I was raised by a general," Sybyrh replied simply. "The lessons arrived early."
He gave a slow nod, filing the detail away.
"The general is a good man," Ozpin said, choosing his words with the careful precision of someone who meant something specific and complicated by the descriptor. "He is simply afraid. Men who harbor fear-and possess the military means to act on it-invariably commit the error of doing too much rather than too little. It is an enduringly human tendency."
"It is not entirely exclusive to humans," Sybyrh pointed out. "But yes."
Ozpin looked over at her, his expression softening. "Your restraint today is appreciated, Sybyrh. More than you realize."
"You asked me to give him a fair hearing," she reminded him. "I will listen. That is the absolute limit of my commitment."
"That," Ozpin said quietly, "is entirely sufficient."
The access chime chimed softly.
General James Ironwood stepped through the threshold with the forward-leaning momentum of a man who had traveled across continents and considered every mile a necessary investment. He was broader-shouldered than Ozpin, carrying the heavy, reinforced bearing of someone who had spent his formative years treating his physical body as an operational tool rather than a mere vessel, building it accordingly. His sharp, calculating eyes swept the room with the rapid efficiency of a commander who needed to map every threat the second he crossed a perimeter.
They locked onto Tarro. Then onto Sybyrh. Finally, they settled on Ozpin.
"Ozpin." He strode forward, extending a gloved hand.
"James." Their handshake carried the practiced weight of two men who had known each other long enough for traditional pleasantries to dissolve into a mixture of old habit and mutual, cautious respect.
When the formalities concluded, Ironwood's gaze drifted back to Sybyrh, registering her appearance with the calculated preparedness of a soldier encountering a variable he had been briefed on.
"You're Arkynorean," he stated.
"I am," she confirmed evenly.
"Are you-" Ironwood paused, catching himself, the hesitation far more deliberate than his opening remark.
"Angry with you on a personal level?" she finished for him. "No. Cautious toward human beings as a broader category? Yes. Please take no offense, General-it is nothing personal. We have simply been given a great deal of historical cause for caution."
"I understand that."
"I sincerely hope so," she said. The genuine sincerity in her tone made the words sharper than any direct threat could have been. "For the sake of both our peoples, General."
Ironwood held her gaze for a heartbeat longer, then gave a crisp nod-the gesture of a man acknowledging a peer.
He turned his attention back to the headmaster.
"I'm well aware of how this looks," Ironwood said, gesturing broadly toward the window and the armada resting in the clouds. "But you know why I'm here. Qrow's intelligence reports-"
"I am fully aware of what Qrow's reports say," Ozpin interrupted calmly, setting his mug down on the glass desk. "I am also aware that parking an invasion fleet outside the window of a city preparing for a festival of international unity sends a rather different message to the public than it does to you."
"The public isn't my primary concern right now."
"It should be," Sybyrh countered. When Ironwood whipped his head around to look at her, she did not flinch. "Forgive me. I promised to listen, General. I will continue to listen."
Ironwood studied her for a long second. "You're exceptionally direct."
"My people find indirection inefficient," she replied smoothly. "I was merely attempting to be polite."
A faint twitch at the corner of Ironwood's mouth hinted at what might, in another life, have been a smile. "I'll make a note of it." He turned back to Ozpin. "Regardless, my point stands."
"Your point always stands," Ozpin agreed, pouring fresh coffee from a silver pot. "That is not what I am questioning. I am questioning your application. There is a way to exercise caution that does not involve flexing military muscle over a city celebrating peace." He met the general's unwavering gaze. "And there is a way to train the next generation-one that involves preparing them without crushing them under the assumption that they are doomed to fail. I prefer the latter approach."
"Do you genuinely believe they can win a war?" Ironwood challenged quietly. "If it ultimately comes to that?"
Ozpin looked at him for a long, quiet moment.
"I sincerely hope," the headmaster said softly, "that they never have to find out."
The silence that settled over the office was heavy, carrying the familiar weight of arguments repeated across years between two men who understood each other's philosophies down to the bone yet could never quite bridge the gap between them.
Ironwood turned and strode toward the door, carrying the air of a man burdened with more than he had arrived with. Sybyrh watched him leave.
"He is not entirely wrong," she noted after the heavy door clicked shut.
"No," Ozpin agreed, staring into his dark coffee. "He isn't wrong. He is simply applying the correct anxiety in entirely the wrong manner-a very specific, very human variety of error."
"It is also diagnostic of a very specific kind of person," Tarro observed quietly from his seat.
"Yes," Ozpin said. "It is."
He glanced back toward the sunlit window, a faint hint of warmth touching his expression. "They should have arrived by now," he murmured, directing the words toward Sybyrh, who understood the unspoken context instantly.
"I believe so," she answered, a subtle pride edging into her voice. "Valvedern tends to treat punctuality as a matter of supreme honor."
The Main Approach to Beacon
The four Dark Elves arrived at Beacon Academy's outer gates with the distinct composure of people who were entirely accustomed to drawing stares and had long since decided to let the world do whatever it liked with that information.
Berethon Albanar had spent the better part of his life as the focal point of public attention. He had resolved that particular burden decades ago, arriving at the comfortable conclusion that he would proceed strictly at his own pace and leave everyone else to arrange their astonishment around him.
Hyatan, walking by his side, tended to notice others far more than she drew eyes to herself. She possessed that rare quality of presence where her attention flowed outward rather than pulling inward, and she was already scanning the students milling along the academy pathways with the thoughtful eye of a mother taking inventory of a world that suddenly mattered deeply.
Down the grand limestone approach, a figure stepped out to meet them-white-blonde hair pulled back sharply, severe wire-rimmed glasses, and the unmistakable posture of a woman who had structured her entire relationship with reality around the expectation that everything would behave correctly if she applied sufficient standards.
"Your Majesties," Glynda Goodwitch said, executing a formal bow that was distinctly more than mere procedural courtesy. "Welcome to Beacon. Headmaster Ozpin sends his regards and will be with you shortly-he is currently wrapping up a discussion with another visitor."
"James," Berethon noted, his tone dry.
Glynda's expression remained carved in stone. "He is a very... committed man."
"He has always been," Hyatan murmured, in the tone of someone holding back an entire library of colorful anecdotes in favor of a much more diplomatic summary.
"Ozpin asked me to escort you inside. He also requested that I pass along his hope that your journey was comfortable." Glynda's gaze shifted to Valvedern and Zero, subjecting them to the sharp, professional assessment she reserved for seasoned fighters. "Are these your personal guard?"
"Valvedern Arkham and his brother Zero," Berethon introduced. "Both are exceptionally capable."
"I have no doubt," Glynda said smoothly, turning back toward the grand arched doors. "If you'll follow me."
Hyatan fell into step beside her, taking in the sweeping architecture of the academy with a dual gaze-cataloging the physical layout of the school while simultaneously overlaying it with the image of the people she loved walking its halls. The soaring spires. The sprawling training yards. The central courtyard where, at this very moment, her sons were presumably navigating a life she couldn't monitor and becoming men she couldn't fully predict.
"How are they?" she asked quietly.
Glynda glanced over. "The young princes?"
"And the others. All of them."
Glynda paused for a beat, digesting the question. "They are... remarkable," she said, her tone carrying the heavy weight of a conclusion chosen with extreme care. "All of them, and in very different ways." She hesitated briefly. "Odyn is-" She seemed to sort through several mental descriptions before settling on one. "He takes matters of responsibility and trust far more seriously than most students their age ever manage. He understands the weight of other people relying on him." She looked toward Hyatan. "He has also formed a very close bond with one of our students-one I suspect is profoundly good for both of them."
Hyatan's features softened with that familiar, involuntary maternal warmth she usually kept tightly guarded.
"Ruby Rose," she supplied.
Glynda looked at her, mildly surprised.
"Sybyrh's periodic reports are remarkably thorough," Hyatan explained simply.
"They are," Glynda conceded with a faint nod.
"And Roy?"
Glynda let out a soft sound that hovered right on the edge of a suppressed laugh. "Roy is currently learning what it means when someone is persistently, unyieldingly interested in you, and you haven't quite figured out how to defend against it."
"The Yang girl," Berethon stated.
"Yang Xiao Long," Glynda confirmed.
Berethon looked at Hyatan.
Hyatan looked at Berethon.
Neither of them said a word. They didn't need to.
The Beacon Library, Late Morning
The board game had been running for so long that its official rules had effectively evolved into a living document, subject to perpetual, aggressive renegotiation. Yang served as both primary combatant and informal arbiter of disputes-a glaring conflict of interest that everyone at the table accepted simply because it was how Yang operated.
Odyn observed the match the way he observed most things: with absolute, unwavering attention, refusing to commit to any strategic conclusion until he had gathered sufficient data. Over the past twenty minutes, he had mapped out the rule set, the current state of the board, and the inevitable outcome-which was that Yang was going to win, and Ruby was going to enjoy losing to her in a way that felt almost indistinguishable from winning.
Roy, sitting beside him, had reached the phase of analysis where he paid less attention to the cardboard pieces and more to the players themselves. Odyn recognized this as his brother's signal that the mechanical puzzle had been solved, leaving human behavior as the far more entertaining study.
"Atlesian Air Fleet," Ruby announced triumphantly, slamming down a card with the theatrical emphasis of someone who had been holding it in reserve for maximum emotional impact.
Odyn studied the card. It was effective.
He watched Yang's expression cycle through three distinct micro-expressions: swift surprise, instant recognition, and finally, the settled smirk of someone who had anticipated this exact play three turns ago.
"Trap card," Yang countered smoothly.
Ruby's face collapsed from sheer elation to absolute devastation in record time.
Odyn reflected that Ruby losing a game to Yang was structurally identical to Ruby losing at almost anything else-she dropped straight to the floor, then bounced right back to the ceiling, skipping the middle entirely. Her emotional highs and lows lived right at the surface.
"Weiss," Yang said, turning toward the heiress with a grin. "Your turn."
What followed involved Yang casually spending six distinct sentences explaining basic strategy to Weiss, followed by a dramatic, operatic monologue from Weiss that culminated in grand imperial ambitions, and finally ending in the quiet, dawning horror when Weiss realized Yang was about to spring yet another trap card.
The resulting tears were comical. The celebratory hug between Ruby and Weiss was equally comical. Yet, the genuine warmth beneath both spectacles made it nearly impossible to stay exasperated with Team RWBY for long.
"Odyn," Ruby called out across the table, adopting the desperate tone of a general deploying her last reserves. "Help me."
"I am uncertain what you expect me to do," he replied evenly.
"I don't know either, but please!"
"I cannot retroactively un-play the trap card, Ruby."
"You could try."
"I could choose not to try," he pointed out. "That is also an option."
She jabbed an accusing finger at him. He maintained steady eye contact, wearing the mild, immovable expression of a man entirely immune to pointing.
Daikon, to absolutely no one's surprise, took immense pleasure in reminding Weiss that she had just been dismantled by a trap card after giving a magnificent victory speech. The inevitable crossfire between Daikon and Weiss generated the distinct crackle of static electricity that always accompanied them occupying the same airspace.
It was, Odyn thought, watching the phantom silhouettes of a roaring dragon and a striking tiger practically hovering behind their respective heads, every bit as exhausting as it looked-and infinitely more entertaining than it had any right to be.
Then Jaune arrived, politely asking if he could join the next round. The ensuing negotiation hit an abrupt halt when Ruby turned around to address him and completely failed to notice a stray chair in her path.
Everything that happened next unfolded with the terrifying speed of an reflex arc firing before conscious thought could catch up. Odyn registered Ruby's plummeting trajectory, shifted his weight, and caught her mid-fall. Unfortunately, the offending chair hooked around his boot, committing his center of gravity to a direction he hadn't chosen. The corrective adjustment he executed was precise enough to shield Ruby from the impact, but entirely insufficient to keep either of them upright.
The linoleum floor, when it rushed up to meet them, was cold, unyielding, and entirely predictable in hindsight.
Odyn ran a swift diagnostic of the situation.
Ruby was sprawled directly on top of him, one palm planted firmly against his chest, her face resting a mere twelve inches from his own. She was blinking with the frantic cadence of a girl whose brain was desperately trying to reboot. He felt the exact second her processing caught up: her expression flickered from shock to realization, instantly superseded by a blush so brilliant and all-encompassing it seemed determined to consume her entire head.
His own nervous system was currently managing a series of physiological responses he resolutely chose not to examine.
"Are you all right?" he asked, defaulting to the practical question because he was, above all, a practical person.
"Y-yes-I'm so sorry, I didn't-are you-I didn't mean to-"
"I know you didn't," he interrupted calmly. "I'm fine." He offered a subtle throat-clearing cough. "Ruby."
"Yes?"
"You might wish to-" He managed to keep his vocal register level. "You are somewhat close at the moment."
She glanced down at their tangled limbs with the expression of a student reviewing a disastrous exam score. Her blush deepened into a shade of crimson that defied physics.
She was back on her feet in the span of time it takes to execute a desperate escape. Odyn followed a heartbeat later. Across the room, the other fifteen occupants froze instantly, each silently deciding whether or not it was safe to comment.
"I'm so sorry," Ruby babbled to the floor, to him, to the empty air. "I didn't-it was a total accident-I'm really-"
"Ruby," he said again, his voice cutting through the panic.
She snapped her gaze up to meet his.
"It was an accident," he repeated gently. "I am not upset. I am asking you to cease being upset as well."
She took a slow, rattling breath. The blush lingered, but its advance was mercifully halted.
"Okay," she whispered. "Yeah. Okay."
"Good." He scanned the room, noting the varied expressions of the onlookers. "Jaune-they already have four players engaged. Another time."
Jaune accepted the dismissal with the quiet grace of a man who realized the room had just generated far more conversational material than any board game ever could, and quietly backed away.
Yang, on the other side of the table, wore the unmistakable look of a strategist cataloging a vital piece of leverage for later deployment.
Odyn met her gaze for a fraction of a second.
Yang returned it with the smug satisfaction of a girl whose pet theory had just been empirically proven.
He promptly looked away.
A moment later, Sun and Neptune blew into the library with the booming, chaotic energy of young men whose afternoon was going swimmingly and who fully intended to drag everyone else along for the ride.
Sun immediately launched into enthusiastic introductions, barely pausing for breath. Neptune took in the room with the dual curiosity of an operative who read situations at a glance and a particular, lingering focus on the white-haired heiress who appeared to be locked in a bitter, two-front debate with both a board game and a dark-haired boy with crimson eyes.
Neptune casually observed: "Aren't libraries supposed to be for reading?"
From across the stacks, Ren's voice drifted dryly: "Thank you."
Nora, curled up in a beanbag chair, muttered the word "pancakes" and instantly plunged back into deep slumber.
Beneath the surface of the room, through the tight-knit mental frequency maintained exclusively by the Elves-a narrow channel reserved for tactical updates and, increasingly, for private observations they preferred not to voice aloud in public-Odyn had been tracking his team's quiet consensus regarding Blake.
She was physically present, yet entirely absent. Her hand rested on a game piece, but her eyes kept darting past the board without registering the play. It was the posture of a person whose mind was trapped elsewhere, using the bare minimum performance of participation to mask her absence.
She's worrying about Torchwick, Hailfire noted through the link.
And the White Fang, Roy added.
Coupled with the fact that no one in authority seems to be moving against them, Odyn thought back.
Should we intervene? Flare queried.
Not yet. Her team needs to reach her first. Let them.
Odyn watched as Blake abruptly stood up, shoving Sun aside-not out of malice, but with absolute finality-and strode toward the exit. He watched the heavy doors swing shut behind her. He felt the subtle shift in the room's atmosphere as the others absorbed her departure.
She'll talk when she's ready, he broadcasted.
Or when her teammates force the issue,* Baron observed.
Both, Khanna concluded. Likely both.
Odyn severed the mental link. He stared at the closed library doors. He thought about the difficult conversation almost certainly unfolding inside Team RWBY's dorm room right now, and about the heavy, defensive weight Blake had been carrying ever since the docks-the burden of a person staggering beneath a secret they hadn't yet learned how to share.
He understood that specific brand of isolation far better than he ever let on.
Team RWBY's Dormitory, Shortly After
When the conversation finally broke open, it possessed the inevitable shape of something that had been quietly accumulating force beneath the surface for weeks.
Weiss stood near the center of the room with the unyielding directness of someone who had grown tired of dancing around an obvious problem and decided to tackle it head-on. The six spinning, multi-colored glyphs she summoned as dramatic punctuation were, characteristically, both completely theatrical and entirely sincere.
"What is wrong?" she demanded of Blake. Before Blake could deploy her usual evasive maneuvers, Weiss cut her off: "Do not tell me nothing. I have known you long enough to recognize what nothing looks like, and this is not it."
Blake stared at her. Then, her amber eyes shifted across the room-taking in Ruby and Yang, and finally landing on Odyn and his team, who lingered near the wall not as an audience, but with the quiet, grounding posture of absolute backup.
She let out a long, ragged breath.
"I don't understand," Blake said, her voice dropping lower, "how any of you can be so calm about all of this."
"About Roman Torchwick," Hailfire supplied quietly from her spot against the wall.
Blake snapped her gaze to her.
"And the White Fang," Hailfire continued evenly. "And the glaring reality that something massive is being constructed right under our noses, while everyone with actual authority drags their feet. You've been chewing on this for a fortnight straight, Blake. It shows."
"How do you-"
"Elven perception," Hailfire interrupted with a soft shrug. "You don't have to explain yourself. I know what it looks like when someone is carrying a weight they don't know how to set down."
Blake fell silent, wrestling with the exposure. Then, softly: "Ozpin told us to leave it alone. He said not to worry."
"Ozpin is managing an enormous amount of weight," Odyn noted from across the room. "That doesn't mean his strategy is flawed. But it also doesn't mean our only valid option is to sit on our hands and wait for a crisis."
"We're only students," Weiss argued, though her tone carried the defensive edge of someone trying to convince herself just as much as the others. "We aren't equipped to handle-"
"We may never feel equipped," Blake countered fiercely. "That is the entire problem. Our enemies aren't going to pause their plans just because we haven't graduated yet."
The room went completely still, holding the weight of her words.
Then, slowly, Ruby raised her hand. It was a gesture that carried her signature blend of bubbling enthusiasm and sudden, nervous self-awareness-her default mode whenever she was stepping up to lead a charge she truly believed in.
"Okay," Ruby said, looking around the circle. "All in favor of not waiting around-of actually doing something-of being the people who take action instead of waiting for someone else to fix it..." She grinned, sweeping her gaze across her friends and allies. "All in favor say aye."
Voices answered her instantly, echoing back in a dozen different registers and varying levels of wry amusement, but every single one of them rang clear.
"We're in," Roy stated on behalf of Team OHRF.
"Obviously," Hailfire added with a smirk.
"We'll need Khanna's input," Odyn mused, crossing his arms. "And Baron's. This kind of investigative work requires Khanna's knack for thinking three moves ahead of everyone else."
"Agreed," Weiss said briskly, projecting the supreme decisiveness of someone who had worked alongside Odyn's brilliant cousin often enough that cooperating with her had simply become second nature.
"She happens to be my cousin," Odyn pointed out dryly.
"I am well aware of who she is."
"You said that as if you invented the idea."
"I was agreeing with your strategic assessment, not trying to plagiarize your family tree."
"I know what agreement sounds like-"
"Odyn," Roy sighed.
"Right. I'll contact her," Odyn conceded.
Abruptly, Ruby bolted toward the door, struck by the sudden, panicked realization of forgotten property. "I left my game pieces in the library," she announced, wearing the sheepish grin of someone who knew full well this was the least tactical contribution she could possibly offer at that exact second, but intended to do it anyway.
"I'll walk with you," Odyn said, pushing off the wall. "I need to hail Khanna anyway, and this conversation can easily happen on the move."
The Corridor Outside Team RWBY's Dormitory
They intercepted Khanna before they even reached the library.
She was standing at a junction in the stone corridor with the distinctive expression of someone who had been heading toward one destination when she abruptly collided with someone else's agenda-which Odyn knew from years of sibling-adjacent experience was how Khanna typically encountered most of his grand strategies.
"We were actually on our way to find you," Odyn said as they approached.
"I know," Khanna replied smoothly. "Because I was on my way to find you. What's happened?"
"Ruby's team wants to launch an offensive against Torchwick. We offered Team OHRF's assistance. Weiss suggested you and Baron."
Khanna's gaze drifted over to Ruby. "You suggested me?"
"I-" Ruby blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "I just agreed when Odyn brought up your name."
"Good enough for me." Khanna fell into step beside them without missing a beat. "I'm in. Baron will be in, too. What's the current intelligence briefing?"
"Blake has the most actionable intel," Ruby explained, picking up the pace. "She knows the White Fang's operational habits better than anyone else here. We were planning to build our strategy from there."
"Smart," Khanna approved with a sharp nod. "Let's go retrieve your board game first, and then hustle back to the dorm before Weiss completely reorganizes the tactical plan without waiting for our input."
"She wouldn't-"
Khanna gave Ruby a look.
"She absolutely would," Odyn confirmed dryly.
"Okay, she definitely would," Ruby admitted, wincing. "Let's hurry."
They were moving at a brisk clip down the corridor when Ruby rounded a sharp corner-and the impact was immediate, mutual, and entirely unexpected. It wasn't a disastrous fall, exactly, but rather the sharp, jarring collision that occurs when two people moving at speed fail to account for the same patch of air.
Ruby bounced backward a full step. Odyn reached out instinctively, catching her arm to stabilize her. The person she had collided with was already steadying herself-a mint-green-haired girl with striking red eyes, a few years older than them, carrying the composed, defensive awareness of someone whose radar was perpetually active.
"I'm sorry!" Ruby blurted out instantly. "So sorry-are you okay?"
"I'm fine." The older girl offered a brief, steadying nod, extending a hand. "Just watch your corners."
"I will, I'm really sorry!" Ruby took the offered hand, springing back upright with the practiced recovery of someone who spent half her life tripping over things. She turned to face the small group accompanying the mint-haired girl, her expression instantly resetting to its natural, open friendliness. "I'm Ruby. And these are some great friends of mine-Odyn and Khanna."
The group standing behind the mint-haired girl consisted of three individuals. There was a silver-haired boy with sharp gray eyes and the loose-limbed, casual posture of someone entirely too comfortable in tense environments. And beside him stood an older woman.
Odyn's gaze locked onto the woman first.
And then it froze.
She possessed a striking, composed beauty-the kind that had clearly belonged to her for long enough that it was no longer a performance, but simply an intrinsic property of how she occupied space. Dark skin. Hair rooted in a deep, vivid amber that smoldered into darker charcoal at the tips. And eyes the color of-
Not fire.
Not quite.
More like the color that fire dreams of being.
She met his sudden, intense stare with the calm, unwavering attention of someone who perceived precisely what was looking at her and refused to flinch away from it.
He recognized that face instantly.
Not because they had ever crossed paths before. But because he had been told about her-described in such meticulous detail, and with such profound, burning sorrow-that the description had long since transformed into a living memory.
He looked at the woman.
The woman looked back at him.
"We're just visiting from Haven," she said smoothly, addressing Ruby with the practiced ease of someone answering a question before it could even be phrased. "Just getting our bearings. Your friend is correct, by the way-the exchange students' quarters are back down that hall to the east."
"Oh, of course!" Ruby smiled brightly. "It happens to everyone. I got completely lost three times my first week here."
"That's very kind of you to say," the woman replied, her smile polite, manufactured, and utterly hollow beneath the surface.
The silver-haired boy-Mercury, as Odyn recalled the mint-haired girl calling him earlier, in the tone of an operative managing a liability-had gone entirely rigid. It was the specific physical stillness of a person who had just run headfirst into an unexpected memory that short-circuited their normal reactions. He was staring straight at Khanna.
Khanna was staring right back at him.
A heavy, electric current flickered across both of their faces-not quite outright recognition yet, but the suffocating antechamber of it. That single, breathless fraction of a second before a devastating truth breaks through.
Odyn looked back at Cinder Fall-because this was Cinder Fall; he held the absolute, chilling certainty of a man who had studied her silhouette in whispered warnings and family archives-and felt a tight, ironclad grip close around his ribs. It took every ounce of his discipline to manage the sudden, violent surge of rage threatening to tear through his composure.
His family had been broken by the hands of this woman.
Or what little was left of them.
He forced his posture to remain dead still. He maintained absolute control. He let Ruby chatter on with her bright, innocent hospitality, watched Cinder flash a smile so thoroughly rehearsed it felt algorithmic, and rapidly processed every variable he needed to account for before things inevitably escalated.
Cinder turned and walked away.
Mercury followed, moving with stiff precision.
The mint-haired girl trailed after them.
Ruby gave a cheerful wave.
Odyn waited in absolute silence until the trio rounded the far corner and vanished from sight. Then, without raising his voice a single decibel, he looked at Khanna.
"You saw it."
"Yes," Khanna answered quietly.
"And him."
"Yes."
Ruby looked back and forth between them, a sudden knot forming in her stomach. "What just happened?" she asked, her voice dropping. "You both just went completely silent. That's... you're never both quiet like that at the same time."
Odyn looked at his cousin. The decision of what to reveal belonged to her.
"Ruby," Khanna said, her tone smooth but tightly wound. "Go ahead to the library. Retrieve your board game. We'll be right behind you."
Ruby stared at her, then glanced at Odyn. Over the past few grueling months, she had learned to discern the fine line between not right now and I am keeping a dangerous secret from you, and she had learned to respect the former even when it left her out in the cold.
"Okay," Ruby whispered softly. "I'll be quick."
She turned and hurried off down the hall.
Odyn pivoted back to his cousin. Khanna was still staring fixedly at the empty corner where the visitors had disappeared. Her expression carried the volatile containment of a wildfire ordered by its master to remain tightly banked.
"Are you certain?" he asked softly.
"I was only seven years old when it happened," she murmured, her jaw tightening. "But yes. I am entirely certain."
He didn't offer empty reassurances. There were no words yet constructed that could bridge the gap of what they were feeling, and he had learned long ago that offering the right phrase at the wrong hour accomplishes nothing.
"And Mercury?" he pressed gently.
"I knew him," she said, her voice barely a breath. "Back then. Before everything fell apart." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "I honestly thought he was dead."
"And now?"
"Now he's walking shoulder-to-shoulder with her." She looked down at her own clenched hands, then raised her amber gaze to meet his. "I need to talk to him."
"Khanna, wait-"
"I need to talk to him," she repeated, and the iron ring in her voice wasn't stubbornness; it was absolute, unyielding certainty. "He needs to know he still has a choice. Whether he chooses to take it is ultimately his business. But someone has to remind him that he isn't entirely chained to her."
Odyn studied her for a long, heavy moment, recognizing the fierce compassion hidden beneath her tactical exterior.
"Just... don't do anything that cannot be undone," he cautioned quietly.
"No," she agreed, turning on her heel. "Not yet."
She strode away, heading back down the corridor toward the corner-straight toward Cinder Fall and whatever dangerous confrontation awaited her.
Odyn didn't follow. This was her path to walk.
Instead, he turned and went after Ruby.
The Corridor, Moments Later
Khanna rounded the corner at a pace that stopped just short of a full sprint, emerging into the sudden, arrested silence of three people who had been mid-stride when an unexpected presence cut off their path.
She hadn't actually called out to them. She had simply materialized-a knack Khanna possessed that frequently had the same disorienting effect.
Cinder was the first to turn.
And in that fraction of a second, something very specific flickered across Cinder's features-a microscopic shift that Khanna had been hunting for. It was the precise moment Cinder registered her identity: the swift, clinical calculation of an operative encountering a variable they thought they had cleanly eliminated. Recognition flashed through the older woman's eyes, gone in a heartbeat, but lasting just long enough to confirm that Khanna was a ghost who had failed to stay in her grave.
"I need a moment," Khanna said, casting the directive straight at Mercury.
Cinder opened her mouth to speak, but Khanna cut her off with a single glance.
"Not you," Khanna said flatly. "I'll get to you."
The look she leveled at Cinder was devoid of mere anger. Rage was a weather front-it blew in, wreaked havoc, and eventually passed. This was something far more permanent. It was the hardened, unyielding resilience of a wound that had spent a decade festering into absolute, immutable certainty.
"What you did," Khanna said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, carrying quiet, "to my family. I know every detail of it. And make no mistake-I know exactly who you are."
Cinder's expression didn't so much as twitch. It was the defensive mask of a master manipulator, which only served to confirm to Khanna just how long the woman had been hiding behind it.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're-"
"I was seven years old," Khanna interrupted, stepping closer, her amber eyes locking onto Cinder's with terrifying clarity. "Not dead. Seven. There is a distinct difference." She held the stare for another agonizing moment, ensuring the weight of the words sank straight to the bone, before deliberately turning her back on Cinder and facing Mercury.
He was staring at her with the shell-shocked stillness of a man who had just looked straight through a tombstone and found the spirit standing right in front of him, desperately trying to compute the reality of what was happening.
"Merc," she breathed.
His breath hitched, rushing out of him in a ragged gasp.
"Khanna," he whispered.
She closed the distance between them and pulled him into a brief, fierce embrace-holding him with the intense, compressed gravity of something that had been denied to her for a lifetime and was finally, briefly permitted to exist. He was taller than she remembered. Yet, beneath the cynical veneer, he was still fundamentally the boy she had known.
She stepped back, planting a firm hand against his shoulder to hold his gaze.
"You've been having doubts," she stated quietly. "About what she's forcing you to do."
"I-" Mercury choked, his throat locking up.
"You don't have to answer me out loud. I already know." She searched his gray eyes with unwavering steadiness. "I don't know every twist of the road that brought you from then to now, and this isn't the time to unpack it. All I am telling you right now is this: you still have a choice. Whatever lies she fed you, whatever leverage she's holding over your head to keep you on a leash-you have a way out. I'm telling you that because someone damn well should."
He remained utterly silent, his jaw clenched as a storm of conflicting emotions warred behind his eyes.
"I can't promise it will be clean or easy," she continued softly. "In fact, I can't promise you anything at all. But I am here. And that counts for something." She paused, her voice softening just a fraction. "Think about it. I'll need your answer before this is all over."
She lingered for a final heartbeat, committing his face to memory-the deep, piercing look of someone who had long accepted they would never see a lost piece of their childhood again, forced to recalibrate to the staggering reality that he was standing right in front of her.
Then, she turned back around.
She stopped directly in front of Cinder one last time.
"If a single hair on his head is harmed," Khanna said, and her tone carried the terrifying weight of absolute, unvarnished truth, "your death will not be quick or merciful. I am not issuing a threat. I am simply detailing a physical inevitability."
Without waiting for a reply, she walked past them.
The corridor behind her dropped into a heavy, suffocating vacuum of sound.
Emerald, who had stood frozen and silent through the entire exchange, slowly turned her head to look at Mercury.
Mercury stared fixedly at the floorboards, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.
Cinder gazed down the empty hallway where Khanna had vanished. For a single, fleeting second, the cold algorithm in her mind cracked, exposing the jarring realization of an architect whose carefully engineered blueprint had just been upended by an uncalculated variable.
Then, she composed her features, smoothed her coat, and resumed her stride. The corridor absorbed them, swallowing the silence whole.
Beacon's Main Hall - Shortly After
Ozpin strode toward the main entrance with Glynda, Sybyrh, and Tarro flanking him. The four of them stepped through the towering double doors precisely as Berethon and Hyatan crested the top of the grand limestone approach.
Ozpin's mouth curved into a genuine smile. It was the easy, weathered expression of a man who had known someone across decades and still found the history between them worth cherishing.
"Old friends," he greeted softly.
"Old friend," Berethon replied, clasping Ozpin's hand with the firm, unyielding grip of a man who meant every word.
Hyatan offered Ozpin a look that blended deep, genuine warmth with the specialized brand of exasperation she reserved exclusively for people she loved dearly. "You could have had the courtesy to inform us that James Ironwood was parking an armada over your academy," she noted.
"Would it have altered your travel plans?" Ozpin asked mildly.
"No."
"Then I merely spared you the inconvenience of worrying about it in advance."
She stared at him for a beat. "You are entirely too pleased with that defense."
"I generally find that I am," he agreed smoothly.
Berethon's gaze shifted over Ozpin's shoulder, landing on Tarro. "Koizumi," he said, skipping the formalities entirely in favor of direct recognition.
Tarro straightened instinctively, carrying the startled posture of a young warrior unaccustomed to being picked out of a crowd by royalty, rapidly recalibrating his bearing. "Your Majesty," he responded respectfully.
"Your father was an honorable man."
"Yes," Tarro murmured, a quiet pride touching his voice. "He was."
The simple acknowledgment hung in the air, welcomed and allowed to settle in the space between them.
Berethon's attention then turned to Sybyrh, who inclined her head into a crisp, traditional Elven salute.
"At ease, Sybyrh," the king said gently. "How are they faring?"
"Well, my Liege," she reported. "They are doing well. And-" She hesitated for a fraction of a second, selecting her phrasing with military precision. "They have found something here that I believe is genuinely good for their development. A sense of belonging. Frankly, it was an outcome I had not anticipated."
"Odyn, in particular," Glynda added smoothly. When several heads turned to look at her in surprise, she remained entirely unfazed. "He has cultivated a... highly productive friendship with one of our premier students."
Hyatan shot a pointed look straight at Ozpin.
"She is referring to Ruby Rose," Ozpin supplied helpfully.
Hyatan didn't say a word. Her silence, however, was exceptionally descriptive.
"You will meet her shortly," Sybyrh noted. "She tends to gravitate toward wherever Odyn happens to be-though it is rarely an arrangement either of them consciously planned."
"The best connections never are," Hyatan murmured softly.
Berethon glanced sideways at his wife.
Hyatan glanced back at him.
The quiet exchange between them lasted barely a second-entirely legible to everyone standing around them, yet fiercely, completely private all the same.
"Shall we?" Ozpin said, gesturing gracefully toward the interior of the academy.
"We shall," Berethon agreed.
End of Chapter Nine
To be continued in Chapter Ten: Not as Planned - Cashing in a Debt
Reunions are strange, delicate things. In reality, they are always two separate events occupying the exact same moment: the physical reunion itself, and the collision with the mental phantom of the person you have carried in your heart during their absence. These two versions never align quite perfectly. The person who returns to you is invariably altered, shaped by days and trials you did not share. But that is not a flaw. It is simply what time does to us-and what love manages to salvage from what time has changed.
Inside the stone walls of Beacon Academy, on a crisp autumn afternoon, two young princes were somewhere in the sprawling halls, being themselves in ways their parents would find simultaneously entirely unfamiliar and intimately recognizable. It was the eternal, beautiful paradox of raising children.
They would all find one another soon enough.
For now, that was quite sufficient.
Shonen onmyouji ending song 1
Visuals: characters of this story
Author's Note
Hey guys, hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! As you saw, Cinder's dark past has caught up to her in a very real way, revealing that she is directly responsible for the slaughter of the families of two of our main characters.
As you can imagine, the hatred for Cinder runs deep-especially for Odyn and Khanna. What did you think of the confrontation and the brief interaction between Khanna and Mercury? Was it too short? If so, don't worry-they'll have a much deeper, more emotional interaction later on down the line as the story progresses.
I also felt the scene with Odyn and Ruby in the library was necessary to push their dynamic forward and add a bit more development to their relationship. But as you can probably tell, it's still very much a growing, one-sided attraction on Ruby's part mixed with a close friendship, rather than both of them fully recognizing mutual romantic feelings just yet.
To wrap this chapter up, I'll throw a few community polls your way:
Who do you think Hailfire should end up with?
A. Shallot (Dragon Ball Legends)
B. Yatsuhashi (Team CFVY)
C. Oscar Pine (Volume 5 onward)
D. Sun Wukong
E. Other (write in a male character suggestion)
Who goes on a date first?
A. Odyn and Ruby
B. Yang and Roy
C. Baron and Flare
D. Weiss and Daikon
E. Jaune and Pyrrha
Anyways, that's all for now! Have an awesome week, and I'll see you in the next update!