RWBY: LUCID

Chapter 34: 34. Blood and fur (Part 2)



Jaune grimaced, feeling that odd transition sensation, once again.

It was like a flicker that encompassed the world. In the blink of an eye. One moment warm sheets and the faint hum of his room's electronics, the next, cold air against his skin and a deep enough silence that felt like the world itself was holding its breath.

It never stopped being disorienting.

He rubbed at his eyes, letting them adjust to the low ambient red glow that passed for moonlight in this place. Though he couldn't see it, Jaune knew that the dim red haze seeped down through the dense, low-hanging black clouds, like some sickly version of twilight permanently caught between dusk and something worse.

"Ugh... every time," he muttered to himself.

The transition wasn't painful—just strange. Instantaneous in a way that left his body feeling like it had missed a step on a staircase. His stomach hadn't quite turned, but his mind reeled for half a second, as if trying to process two versions of reality at once and being forced to choose one.

Each time, the feeling felt a little less jarring.

Which was somehow worse.

Jaune exhaled slowly and glanced down at himself.

The jacket was still on him and the pads were securely fastened. His helmet sat a little snug over his head but it had definitely made the trip, just fine. He gave his steel bat an experimental swing, the weight solid in his grip. No rust or strange warping.

It was all here.

His theory had been right.

Items carried into sleep—items he equipped—came with him into the dream, properly. That confirmed it. It was not simply a one-off fluke.

The rules here followed some kind of logic. Not Earth-logic but game-like logic.

The System had already made that obvious with the status screens, the weird "Dream authority exit" windows, and the UI that popped up with voice commands. And now this. Equipment persistence.

Jaune needed to test it out more. Could he stow things away? Did it matter how he brought them in? Could he build a kit of some sort?

Could he carry more than one weapon?

Questions buzzed in the back of his head like static. He didn't have answers—yet. But the fact that he was starting to ask the right ones gave him a strange feeling. Like peeling back the first layer of an onion, and knowing there was something more underneath.

What other mechanics were in play here?

Did lives matter? Could he die once, come back again? Or would that be it?

Was there some kind of map he could unlock? Or fast travel, or checkpoints, or what about inventory space?

Jaune sighed and shook the thoughts away. Later. He'd test them later. No point standing around now, not while there were real monsters wandering these streets.

He took a slow breath and looked around.

The world had once again placed him in the partially-collapsed remains of what used to be his house.

Dust hung in the air. Thick enough to taste.

Jaune adjusted his grip on the bat and moved to the other side of the room where the floor had cracked slightly in an ugly break. His shoes crunched against loose flooring and broken plaster when he stepped carefully over debris and made his way out of his room.

It the same as last time. Ruined.

But... still usable.

Probably.

He took one last glance at the ruined bedroom behind him before setting a foot on the first step. It gave under his weight, creaked loud enough to make him wince, but held as it always did. Carefully, Jaune made his way down—each step cautious and calculated. The bat was kept close in case something was waiting at the bottom.

The house shifted and groaned with age, a welcoming song to its occupant.

From what he had noticed so far, Jaune was fairly certain that he would spawn wherever he decided to go to sleep. Which meant that perhaps next time, he could test that theory out on the couch downstairs.

Jaune was ready now, however. Ready to hunt and get stronger.

He could already feel the Body stat that he had upgraded come into play. That feeling of having a stronger, healthier body that was once lost in the waking world had come back and embraced him, here in this nightmare realm.

Now that he had armor and a somewhat proper weapon, Jaune felt like he had some semblance of control. And for the first time since this nightmare world had yanked him into its twisted depths, Jaune wasn't entirely powerless.

His heart still beat heavily in his chest. That unease hadn't left. But it was duller now. A muted, less scared rhythm. Like a drum warning him to stay alert, not the full-blown panic of a child trapped in the dark.

'I'm...getting used to this.'

The thought was strange. Not comforting but not exactly wrong either. Just strange.

Before anything else, Jaune summoned his, "Status."

The familiar screen blinked into place with that soft, glowing red hue, hovering just past his line of sight.

.

.

===

[Jaune Arc]

[Rank: 0]

===

Aura: 0

Will: 0

Body: 1

===

Runes: 8

===

.

.

"Still the same" he muttered. "Good."

With a grunt, Jaune grabbed the battered remains of the living room couch and dragged it across the floor, wedging it firmly against the broken doorframe again. While he hadn't been able to test the trap properly last time, due to the boarbatusk rendering it useless, Jaune was hopeful it was going to work.

Against another Boarbatusk? Maybe not. But a Beowolf? That might be a different story.

He tested the angle, shifted one leg of the couch a bit to ensure it braced better, and nodded.

"If I'm lucky," he murmured, "should any monsters rush in, they'll trip on it and get tangled up. That's when I'll strike. Well, assuming it all goes according to plan, of course."

His fingers tightened around the bat.

But luck only lasted so long, and Jaune wasn't so sure he'd be that lucky.

He thought back to yesterday night—the pack and the horrible chase. The front row view of claws tearing through his door like it was paper. He sometimes felt like he could still hear them, when he stood too long in dark corners. Growling and waiting.

"If I fight more than one of those things again…" he exhaled. "That's going to be a problem."

He crossed the room to the front window. The broken one near the door. The glass had settled across the sill again. Jaune hissed and brushed it aside with his bat, careful not to cut his fingers. He leaned slightly forward to peer into the reddish dark, making sure the coast was clear before he jumped through the window.

The street outside was dead quiet. For a moment.

And then—movement.

A black blur with red and white streaks surged from the shadows, low and fast.

"What the—"

Before he could even finish the thought, it rammed full-force into the door.

The wood splintered and the couch shuddered.

The front half of a Beowolf came crashing through, tangled in the wreckage and snarling violently.

Jaune's breath caught.

His pulse suddenly slammed into high gear.

Heart in his throat, he scrambled back a step and raised his bat just as the beast twisted in the wreckage.

It had fallen into the trap—but not cleanly.

Its arm thrashed wildly, tearing at cushions and wood, trying to gain leverage. Jaune didn't hesitate, this time. He lunged in and brought the bat down hard across the creature's elbow.

CRACK.

The sound echoed in the hollow house.

The Beowolf howled in pain, eyes glowing like red lanterns behind its bone-white mask. It jerked up violently, bursting free from the couch with one good limb and lunged straight at him.

"Shit!"

Jaune threw himself back, dodging its swipe. His boots skidded on the dusty floor, nearly slipping. He caught his balance crouched slightly, gritted his teeth, and swung again—this time at its back leg.

His point in the body stat was really putting in the work.

The impact was brutal.

The creature yelped, dropped low, its digitigrade knee half-collapsing beneath it. A mess of black ooze spilled where the joint shattered.

Still it came.

It clawed forward, mouth open wide, teeth flashing like daggers. One swipe of its good arm raked across Jaune's chest, catching on the jacket and tearing through the upper layer.

Jaune stumbled, eyes wide.

He'd felt the impact—but not the pain.

"Crap!…" he breathed, glancing down at the torn padding. It didn't cut through the material.

But it was still moving.

Jaune gritted his teeth and raised the bat overhead. The Beowolf was crawling now, half-limping, half-sliding across the floor. It's damaged limbs slowed it down, but its hatred burned just as brightly.

He couldn't let it get back up.

Jaune roared and brought the bat down hard.

It raised its good arm in reflex, trying to shield its face—but overcorrected and pitched forward. Jaune's strike slammed into the base of its skull, just above the spine.

The Beowolf shrieked.

Jaune didn't stop.

He hit it again. And again. Until the mask cracked.

Until the bone caved in and black blood poured across the floor like tar.

Until it stopped moving and its body began to disintegrate, breaking down into motes of black ash and curling smoke that drifted upward and vanished.

Ding.

A soft chime echoed in his head. Familiar now. Almost comforting.

.

.

[Rank 0 beast, Beowolf, slain]

[Runes received: 10]

.

.

[Dream Authority exit granted]

[Cost: 1 Rune]

[Exit Nightmare?]

[Y/N]

.

.

Jaune leaned against the wall, panting from shock.

His arms trembled slightly, but the adrenaline held steady. He hadn't frozen nor panicked. Jaune had leveraged his strength and he'd won.

Not cleanly or perfectly but he was still here. And that wasn't.

But before Jaune could even summon his status window to check his gains, a piercing howl suddenly cut through the silence outside.

Then came another. And another.

The noise hit like ice down his spine.

"Uh-oh—" he whispered.

A realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. The howls were from the pack! Yesterday's encounter had followed him back here. And they had never left...

Jaune hadn't thought that the creatures would be here. Perhaps it slipped his mind, or perhaps it was incompetence. In any case, the fact that the surroundings reset gave Jaune a preconceived notion that he would have to go out to hunt the beowolves in the station, to go out to find them. Almost as if he would find them back at their "spawn point."

Jaune froze in place, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.

"Not a game, right…"

Instead, the pack had sniffed him out while he fled from the station, followed him and waited for him in the neighborhood.

He'd just killed one of them.

And now the rest were making their move.

Before he could think any further—or even react—a black blur surged through the broken door. This time, there was no stumble, no debris to slow it down or trip it up. The Beowolf leapt clean over the ruined couch, claws gleaming in the sickly red moonlight, and slammed down hard into the floor with a thud that cracked the boards beneath it.

Jagged talons scraped across the wood, gouging deep claw marks like someone dragging knives through wet clay.

Another Beowolf slipped in behind it.

Then another. And another.

Jaune backpedaled quickly.

The air had turned electric. Heavy with menace. He felt it in his teeth, in his spine.

The beasts spread out slowly, surrounding the entryway like wolves cornering prey. Their red eyes locked onto him, and their growls deepened into something guttural. Something eager. Something hungry.

They wanted him. They waited for him.

Perhaps they were not simply just malicious reflections of animals. Not entirely mindless mobs. No, those beasts had been watching and lurking. Jaune wasn't certain whether they were smart enough to wait for him but they were certainly still present in the neighborhood. 

But they had been separated, before. Possibly exploring the area on their own, away from the others.

Jaune's fight with one of them must have alerted the others to the noise, and drew them back to the area.

His hands tightened around his bat, nervously, and he felt his fingers becoming more and more slick with sweat. His mind spun, hunting for options. He couldn't take on four Beowolves. Even one was already pushing it. He doubted he could have even won in a one on one combat without having the prior advantage of preparing the environment.

But Jaune didn't panic.

The System's chime from earlier was still echoing faintly in his memory. The Dream Authority Exit had already been granted. Which meant, he could leave whenever he wanted.

His eyes flicked towards the side, half-expecting to see the window prompt waiting—but it wasn't there. He'd have to will the command to work if he wanted to leave.

Still, that tiny thread of safety—his metaphorical parachute—was enough to keep his despair at bay.

"Luck," he whisper to himself, heart pounding. "If the whole pack had come in, all at once earlier, I'd have been a bloody red smear on the floor."

Or perhaps, not even that. Those beasts hungered for his flesh. Would they leave even a scrap of his blood to drip onto the ground?

Jaune didn't know. Nor could he be bothered to entertain those thought, with his life so close to being in peril.

Instead, he took a breath that was both deep and even. Forcing his frayed nerves into a state of calm. He wouldn't win against all of them But perhaps, he might be able to leverage another kill somehow.

And if he could... that meant another upgrade in his body stat.

The lead Beowolf didn't wait for him to map out a plan. It snarled and lunged a half-step forward.

Jaune didn't wait, either.

He turned and bolted for the stairs, leaping up four at a time. The cracked wood groaned beneath his shoes, and a chunk of debris had even snapped underfoot, nearly tripping him. But he kept going, leveraging the banister railings with his hands, to launch himself higher up.

A furious growl split the air behind him.

THUMP.

One of the Beowolves leapt, clearing half the room in a single bound. The others weren't far behind, their claws thudding against the floor like war drums.

Jaune didn't look back. He scrambled up the stairs, half-running, half-climbing and already planning on what to do next. 

The teen hadn't even realized the excited smile blooming across his face.


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