Ever Happened

Jaune was pretty sure Glynda Goodwitch had a personal grudge against him in these years. It wasn’t even subtle. The way she narrowed her eyes at him like she was barely tolerating his existence? Yeah, that wasn’t just general teacher strictness. It took him a while to realize why, but then it hit him, right, she probably knew about the whole forged transcripts thing.

So, yeah. He wasn’t exactly expecting warm smiles and words of encouragement from her.

Then there was Cardin Winchester. Jaune had honestly forgotten the guy existed. After everything he’d been through—the Ever After, the Rusted Knight business, getting old, getting young, and now, apparently, time travel again—Cardin felt like such a minor problem that Jaune could barely muster the effort to acknowledge him.

But Cardin? Cardin was clearly looking forward to this. Like a school bully who just found out recess was extended. He was practically vibrating with anticipation, fists clenched, lips curled into a smug little smirk that Jaune really wanted to slap off his face.

On the sidelines, Nora was already gripping Magnhild like she was waiting for permission to turn Cardin into paste. Pyrrha, ever the image of polite restraint, didn’t say anything—but she didn’t need to. The sharp glare she aimed at Cardin was promise enough. Cardin saw it too, eyes flicking to her for a split second before he quickly refocused on Jaune.

Good choice, buddy. If Pyrrha decided to step in, this fight would be over before it even started.

Miss Goodwitch droned on about something—technique, discipline, whatever. Jaune wasn’t listening. He had bigger things on his mind. Like the fact that he was here. In the past. At Beacon. With Pyrrha alive.

His head was still spinning from that realization when the fight started.

Jaune exhaled. He had no reason to hold back. The Ever After had been one long, grueling trial that had sharpened him into something far beyond what he used to be. If he hadn’t learned anything from his time there, he’d have to be a complete idiot. Though he got a bit rusted in there too, his time in Vacuo after the Everafter  shaved those rust away.

So, he tapped into his Aura, letting it flood his senses, heightening everything—the weight of Crocea Mors in his grip, the subtle shifts in Cardin’s stance, the exact moment to strike.

And damn, Cardin felt slow.

Jaune raised his sword into a roof guard, waited, just a little longer, then moved. A clean, precise  diagonal strike.

There was a sharp crack as Cardin’s Aura shattered like brittle glass. The force sent him flying back, slamming into the ground with a satisfying thud.

Silence.

Then, a raised eyebrow from Goodwitch. “Impressive. You’ve clearly done some training.” A pause. Then—actual praise? “Well done, Mister Arc.”

Nora whooped loudly. “That’s our fearless leader!”

Ren gave an approving nod. Pyrrha—graceful and poised as ever—clapped politely, but Jaune could see the glint of pride in her eyes.

And that—that—was almost too much.

She was here. She was alive. He had to look away before his brain short-circuited trying to process it.

Ruby cheered too, grinning ear to ear. Yang was smirking, clearly appreciating the technique he used. Blake… Blake was watching him. Closely. Like she was trying to figure something out. Weiss looked marginally impressed, though she still had her usual haughty expression.

Jaune exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing. Then, with the fight over, he made his way back to his seat, the noise of the class fading into the background as he got lost in thought.

Jaune then stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down at the Emerald Forest, the place where everything had started. This was where they had been launched during Initiation, where he had met Pyrrha, where he had first started his journey to becoming a Huntsman.

And now, somehow, he was back.

He wasn’t sure how to deal with this.

Was Salem still out there? Was Cinder? Was any of that insane bullshit still looming over the world like a storm waiting to break?

Or was everything just… paused?

Like the universe had taken a breath, waiting to see if he’d mess things up even worse this time around.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of Crocea Mors. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do now.

What if the attack on Beacon was just delayed? What if everything happened again, just on a different timeline? What if he still lost Pyrrha?

Jaune felt his stomach twist at the thought.

He had spent so much time fighting, surviving, aging, only to get thrown back into the past and crammed into his old body like nothing had happened. And sure, maybe he hadn’t exactly mentally matured in the Ever After—being alone for so long and then suddenly young again had done things to his brain he wasn’t ready to unpack—but this?

This was worse.

Because at least in the Ever After, he knew what had happened. He knew what he was fighting for, what had been lost. Here?

He didn’t know anything.

He tried to think it through. Really, really think.

Then he stopped.

Yeah. Nope.

Thinking was getting him nowhere.

Jaune let out a sharp breath, dropped his arms to his sides, and turned away from the cliff’s edge. Whatever was going to happen, he’d deal with it when it came.

For now, he just had to survive being a student again.

And that might be harder than fighting Salem.