RWBY: LUCID

As the final bell echoed faintly behind them, Jaune slung his bag over his shoulder and waved goodbye to the others.

"We're heading to the clubroom," Ruby said cheerfully, tugging at her backpack strap. "Are you heading straight home?"

Jaune gave a half-smile. "Yeah. Gonna take it easy today."

"Enjoy the weekend," Yang added, giving him a 'light' punch on the arm. "Don't fall asleep in front of the TV or anything."

"I make no promises," Jaune smiled, rubbing his arm. 

Her punch really hurt.

Nora waved enthusiastically as she bounced ahead. "Catch you later, Jauney!"

Ren and offered a quiet nod, and the group turned away as a unit—already slipping into their afterschool rhythm. Jaune watched them go for a moment, their voices fading down the path like soft echoes of a song that one could hum but never quite remember all the words to.

He let out a breath and turned on his heel to walk the other way.

Halfway down the stairs, he frowned slightly.

It occurred to Jaune once again that he had never asked them what their club was actually called.

They always just said "clubroom," or "we've got a meeting," or "it's for the project"—and Jaune, caught up in everything else, had never thought to press. He wasn't sure why that bugged him now, but it did.

A little.

Maybe it was because their meetings always seemed to occur every day. At times, Jaune felt as if they knew something he didn't. And with everything going on with his dreams and their apparent club activities... well, lately… it felt less like coincidence and more like a thread he should pull.

Perhaps they might be able to offer some insight into his new... "condition?"

"Next time," Jaune muttered under his breath. "I'll ask, next time."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked a little faster. During lunch break, he'd actually taken the time to check out the poster boards that were located outside. There were a few club flyers still pinned up, though most were a little old and sun-faded. Nothing screamed "life-changing," but a couple had caught his eye.

One of them was for a Sword Arts Club. It had a small yet simple design, a black silhouette of a longsword against a white background with a few meeting times scribbled in bold red ink. Jaune had paused at it longer than he meant to, even taking a picture afterwards. His dad had made a sword once, back when he was messing around with his blacksmithing hobby. Had even given it a ridiculous name like Crooked Maw or something equally dramatic.

It was probably still somewhere in the basement back at the other house, collecting dust under old toolboxes.

Still… something about learning swordsmanship sounded kind of cool. And practical. Especially now.

Another flyer, shoved half-behind a chess club notice, also stood out to him.

Occult Research Society — bold letters printed in smoky ink, framed by weird sigils and a flickering candle drawing. The font made it look like it belonged in a mystery novel, but it also had just enough seriousness to make Jaune hesitate. The description was vague—something about mystical studies, esoteric literature, and "fringe psychology."

Jaune stared at it for a long while.

He wasn't sure what counted as "fringe" in a school club, but considering the world he kept waking up in, it didn't feel all that fringe to him anymore.

It was possible that club could help make some sense of things. Maybe not. But it was worth a shot.

He made a mental note to check it out next week.

Jaune suddenly paused, halfway to the gate. Now that he thought about it… he remembered from the flyer that one of the meeting times was supposedly today. Friday, right after classes.

He rocked on his heels, frowning slightly as students passed around him—some heading to clubs, others to the train, and a few just hanging around the benches, scrolling on their phones or talking in clusters.

He still had time.

His thoughts drifted to the dream. The way that second Beowolf had burst through the door. The crushing weight of its body, the shadows that stretched like claws toward him. The sickening lurch in his stomach when he had to desperately EXIT just to survive.

And the way that the city had reset itself again. Just like that. There was no explanation, pattern or guarantee of what would come next.

Jaune exhaled through his nose.

If he was going to survive that world, he needed more than just luck and a bat. He needed preparation. Information. Anything that could help him take the next step with confidence.

But he also needed to start somewhere.

He glanced down at his feet, then back toward the courtyard path.

"Alright…" he muttered to himself. "Just a look."

He could still stop by the store later. There were a few places that seemed like that sold sporting gear. Even better, it was on the way home too. He figured if he couldn't get real armor, something like knee pads were a good enough place to start.

But right now, his curiosity tugged at him harder than his caution.

Besides, something about the words Occult Research Society had stuck in his mind. Like it was calling to him.

As ridiculous as that sounded.

Jaune turned on his heel and headed back toward the main building, slipping past a group of chatting upperclassmen and scanning the floor numbers for the one that matched the flyer's location.

Building A, Room 319.

Third floor. End of the wing.

He took the stairs two at a time and soon arrived at the door.

 One thing to say about it was… that it was certainly different.

Jaune stood outside the door, staring at it like it had personally offended him.

It wasn't just the faded construction paper or the heavy scent of melted wax that wafted from underneath. It wasn't even the "KEEP OUT" sign written in jagged red marker, or the smaller sign beneath that read "Only the Awakened May Enter." No—what really got him was the glitter glue outlining everything like someone had tried to make a warning sign from a kindergarten craft table.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

"…Okaayyy?"

Still, curiosity pressed harder than logic. With a deep breath, he reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

And immediately regretted everything.

Six students stood in a circle, hoods drawn, surrounding what looked like a very crudely chalked Star of David in the center of the floor. Not a pentagram. Not some arcane blood symbol. No—a literal six-pointed star. These guys probably googled "magic symbols" and just stopped at the first symmetrical thing that wasn't trademarked.

The lights were off. Candles flickered at the corners of the room. There was a faint smell of incense—or maybe someone had lit a stick of cinnamon gum on fire.

And the chanting.

Oh god, the chanting.

It wasn't even a real language. It sounded like someone mumbling through an anime spell, only with less confidence.

"Zarathuuu... mekka-ran-daaa… uhhh… kameh-meh—"

The girl in the center suddenly froze mid-syllable, eyes wide after seeing Jaune stand there with a deadpan look on his face. The others turned too, equally startled.

Silence fell.

"I'll just uh…" Jaune said, blinking. "come back later... I guess?"

The robed girl coughed violently. "N-no wait! W-Water!" she squeaked, voice cracking like a broken flute. One of the others stumbled across the room, tripping over his own robe and sloshing water from a plastic bottle into her hands like a pit crew.

Jaune just stared.

Another student, a tall boy with curly hair peeking out from his hood, pulled his robe off halfway and gave an awkward grin. "This... no, this isn't what it looks like!"

"You're not trying to summon a demon?" Jaune asked blankly.

The water girl, now gulping down her drink, wiped her mouth and raised a hand. "No we were... uh preparing—yes! Preparing! We were preparing to research whether a demon manual that we had found would truly summon a creature from down below!"

"But... that symbol on the ground is not even a pentagram? Aren't demons or devils or whatever supposed to be summoned by pentagram circles?"

"What?" She looked confused before slowly counting the points on the crude magic circle. "This... Maurice, you were supposed to draw a pentagram!" she scolded one of the other students. He had a gothic look to him. Pale skin, and black eyeliner. 

"Er... this was... just so we could rehearse! Yes! If I had drawn the real thing, then we would have summoned evil incarnate!" He looked panicked at first but oddly enough, even though his excuse was dumb, it made sense in a way.

"...With a Star of David?" Jaune continued.

The girl seemed enlightened to Maurice's explanation. "Yes! Maurice, I knew you were a genius! Next time we would be even more prepared by having taoist talismans and holy water to trap the demons."

Jaune felt like teasing them. "Why didn't you just prepare it beforehand?"

"This... uh..."

One of the girls in the back muttered, "Maybe we should've used the triangle-circle thing…"

Another guy groaned. "That's alchemy, Jenna. We're not summoning Fullmetal Dadbod."

"I'm pretty sure this is cultural appropriation," Jaune said, raising an eyebrow.

The leader girl sighed, pulling off her hood with a dramatic flair that did not help her credibility. "Okay, okay—we're still working on the presentation, alright? But, we're legit, I promise. We research mystical stuff, mythological archetypes, and fringe theories of collective subconscious. We also explore mysteries. Are you... looking to join?"

Jaune squinted. "Considering that you just yelled 'kameh-meh' into the void... probably not?"

She flushed. "It was... mnemonic! For vibrational alignment!" She nodded sagely, believing her own words.

He opened his mouth. Closed it and opened it again.

Finally, he just said, "Right." And turned to leave. "I'm... uh... just going to go. You have fun with you... vibrational alignment, kameh-meh or whatever."

"No! Wait!"