RWBY: LUCID

Jaune reached the landing and whirled around in one fluid motion—bat raised and ready.

Instinct moved before thought and his muscles fired in perfect sync, coiled like springs and snapping with brutal precision. The steel bat slammed into something solid behind him.

Crack.

The head of the leading Beowolf jerked sideways as the impact connected squarely with the side of its head. The force of the blow knocked it backwards into the pack behind it, momentarily throwing the tight group into a staggered pile on the staircase.

Jaune didn't waste time gawking. His heart was pounding, but his mind was clear—clearer than it had ever been during a fight.

The Body stat.

He could feel it working in him, like the humming of tuned wires in an electrical engine. It wasn't just raw strength. The Nightmare System wasn't that simple.

When he'd put those precious runes into Body, it hadn't just made him hit harder. It had sharpened him—refined every part of his physical self to a level that exceeded the average teenager. His balance was better, vision more focused, reaction time, reflexes and even his instinctive awareness of spacing and momentum—all of it had been elevated.

It was the difference between surviving and dying in this place.

And now?

Now he could fight.

The Beowolf he'd struck reeled with a deep growl, its clawed feet scrambling for purchase on the narrow steps. A faint, jagged line traced across the side of its mask, just below the eye socket. It wasn't completely broken yet—but Jaune figured another three more hits like that would do the job.

He surged forward and slammed his shoe into the creature's chest with a brutal spartan kick, right as it tried to regain its footing.

THUD.

The force of the blow, aided by its off-balance, pushed it backward. The Beowolf collided with the others still clambering up behind it, and that was the tipping point.

The half-broken stairs, already groaning from the combined weight of four massive creatures, gave out with a splintering CRASH.

The entire structure collapsed beneath them.

Jaune had expected it, anticipated it, even. He pushed off with his back foot and jumped—just as the stairs crumbled away beneath him—and landed hard on the second floor, skidding into a crouch.

Behind him, the Beowolves tumbled in a snarling heap of limbs, claws, and rotted wood. Dust billowed upward in a cloud. The broken stairwell separated them from him—for now.

Jaune scrambled to his feet and took a step back, breathing hard.

That bought him time. "Think, Jaune. Think. What the hell do you do now? How do you escape and turn this around?"

His eyes flicked toward the hallway, calculating.

He needed space and ground advantage. He figured that he might be able to pick off another one of those creatures if they attacked him one at a time.

More than likely not, however.

Jaune readied his bat again. The cracked mask of the Beowolf he'd struck was still fresh in his mind. he'd have to target that one first.

His eyes darted to his room. The second-floor window in there overlooked the street, but it was fully intact. Covered in dust and grime, yes but still intact. His room was high from the ground, but not too high. If he timed the landing right, he could possibly bleed off the momentum and roll out onto the asphalt with minimum damage.

It was his only real option if he wanted to be able to exit his house.

The stairs were gone and the hallway was too narrow to fight freely.

"Window it is," he muttered under his breath, spinning on his heel to make a break for it.

Scrrrk.

The drywall beside the stairwell split open with a shriek of tearing plaster and wood.

Claws.

The Beowolf closest to the bottom of the stairs had recovered the fastest. Jaune turned just in time to see the creature climbing—its thick arms punching deep into the walls, its claws sinking like meat hooks into crumbling support beams. It hauled itself up the ruined stairs, bounding onto the second floor like some demonic mountain wolf.

Then it snarled with its blood-curdling maw. The sound hit like a gut punch. Deep, guttural and starving.

"Son of a bitch!" The insult was well suited, considering the creature was canine in nature.

Jaune backpedaled instinctively, but the beast's swipe came too fast. He threw his weight to the side, rolled backward on one shoulder just in time to avoid the first claw, feeling the wind of it graze past his neck. He came up in a crouch, bat held tight across his chest in a tight block.

The hallway was narrow around them. Tight drywall and low ceilings. Flooring worn down to the barebones of wood. It barely had space for two people to pass comfortably—let alone a snarling beast built like a gorilla-wolf hybrid.

And the Beowolf was certainly too big for it.

It realized this too. Jaune saw the flicker in its red eyes—some animal version of frustration or calculation—right before it lunged.

It couldn't swipe properly. Couldn't dodge either. Which meant…

All-in.

Jaune gritted his teeth and braced for it.

The Beowolf surged forward with both claws extended, shoulders scraping the narrow walls as it hurled itself at him.

Jaune blocked the right one. The steel bat locked against the incoming arm, jarring his shoulders. Sparks flew as claw met metal. The beast's open maw snapped at his face—but he managed to twist the bat just enough to bash its snout to the side mid-lunge.

The other claw slipped past his defense.

Rrrrriip!

It tore across his jacket, deep gouges marring the padding. Jaune felt the impact—it was deep enough to cut skin but just barely. Nothing that would impede his movements. The impact however, rocked him.

He took advantage of the force to jump backwards into his room. He backpedaled quickly to put distance between the creature and him.

His heel hit the edge of his bed. It was too close which meant that he had no time to recover or maneuver around it.

Jaune flung his body backward over the rotting mattress, rolled across the frame and sprang toward the window. His hand slapped the sill. Cold, grime-slick glass covered his palm. The Beowolf prowled into the room behind him, low and silent, breathing heavy like a predator in its death-throes.

It growled—a low, venomous rumble—and began creeping forward on all fours.

He reared back and smashed the window with his bat.

Crash!

Glass shattered outward in a spray of filthy shards, red moonlight rushing into the room like spilled blood. The sudden sound made both him and the Beowolf flinch.

Suddenly, more snarls accompanies the beast. Jaune spied past the creature's shoulder and saw the rest of the pack had followed this beowolf and had also climbed up the walls to reach the second floor.

Jaune threw a leg over the windowsill and planted his shoe against the edge. The street below looked merciless—hard asphalt waiting to crack bones—but it was still better than being torn apart upstairs.

He crouched, ready to leap.

But before he could, the bounding of claws on the wooden flooring alerted him and his instincts screamed.

His body twisted mid-motion.

He whirled around just in time to brace his bat across his neck—

CRASH!

The Beowolf lunged.

'Why do they always pounce!' Jaune cursed in his mind as the creature slammed into him like a freight train.

They shattered through the rest of window together, glass exploding in every direction. The wall and the window sill buckled, as their combined weight tore through it, and then—suddenly—they were both airborne, in freefall, tumbling into the open night.

Time seemed to slow and the red glow of the shattered moon bathed everything in surreal, dreamlike clarity.

Jaune's eyes locked with the creature's. Its bone-mask-like face twisted in rage. Jaws opened wide, lunging for his throat.

Reflex. Instinct. Survival.

Jaune jammed his bat horizontally into its maw, wedging it between those horrible jaws.

The Beowolf bit down. Hard.

Crunch.

Its fangs locked onto the metal, inches from his neck. Its claws tore at his side, one hooked talon raking deep into his shoulder. Jaune's jacket shredded like paper, flesh parting just beneath it.

Blood welled up in his clothes but Jaune didn't feel it.

Not yet, at least.

The adrenaline numbed everything, from sensation to anxiety. He was too focused on the creature right in front of him.

The world spun as they fell.

Miraculously, Jaune managed to twist his weight, kicking his legs outward and forcing himself on top of the creature, pivoting in such a way that the beast would take the impact of the fall and he would be cushioned by its weight. The Beowolf snarled with its jaws still locked around the steel bat but it couldn't adjust in time. Or perhaps it didn't care. In any case, it was too late.

They were going down.

Fast.

At the last moment, Jaune braced all his bodyweight down into the bat, driving it deeper into the creature's mouth. The angle shifted just enough—

—enough to bring all his momentum crashing down through the monster's jaw.

BOOM.

They hit the ground like a small meteor.

The Beowolf took the full brunt of it.

Jaune grunted as the shock ran through his legs and spine, his half-helmet sparing his head from the worst of the whiplash. The Beowolf didn't have such luck. The steel bat had practically shattered its upper jaw on impact, splitting it almost clean in two. Teeth flew. Bone cracked. A wet, horrible crunch echoed in the empty street as its head twisted sideways from the trauma.

For a second, everything was still.

Then the Beowolf gave a final twitch—and collapsed into black ash beneath him.

He rolled off the heap, panting, bat still clenched in trembling hands.

The System's chime echoed softly in his mind.

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[Rank 0 beast, Beowolf, slain]

[Runes received: 10]

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.

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Jaune's smile returned, blooming once again.