Egrer got up with obvious reluctance. After sunrise, he suddenly felt safe and was just as suddenly pulled toward sleep. But the alarm clock set by Magenta for seven o'clock ruined all his dreams.
"Wakey-wakey!" their brave leader shouted, pulling two cymbals out of Yort's drum box.
With that bone-chilling clanging, not even a dead man could fall asleep, so the pack had to obey her will. A sluggish Illmond, who had spent the whole night drawing his smut, and a sleepy Egrer, who had spent the whole night guarding their peace, slowly lined up in an improvised formation. Yort was already waiting for them.
"We have a super hard day today!" Magenta began her briefing. "Right after combat prep, we've got PE, so save your strength and eat a big, yummy lunch during the long break. Oh, and I really hope you all remember that our team has to give a presentation in History today! We can't mess this up, our grades are already the absolute worst in the year! We've gotta push ourselves today!"
No one dared to argue with her. The Great Chaos had decided that Magenta would be serious today, so it was only in their power to accept this outcome. Then again, the Chaos giveth, the Chaos taketh away; she'd be back to normal by tomorrow.
Even though she was stressing them out with her new rules, Egrer was proud of her. At this rate, in a couple of years, Magenta could be trusted with something not too serious. Like taking care of the flowers. And in a decade, she might even be trusted with a secret, and she wouldn't immediately run off and blab it to everyone!
Then again, no, that was pushing the realm of sci-fi...
After a hearty breakfast and two classes, Magenta insisted they go watch the arrival of their future rivals in the Vytal Tournament—the students from Atlas. While the others had been arriving chaotically and at different times, the Atlesians showed up all at once in one big clump. Along with a literal army and an entire air fleet, no less...
"I don't get it, did Beacon get invaded or something?" Egrer asked in surprise. "Did we, like, sleep through a war?"
Every crack on the hull of every aircraft bristled with multiple cannons, machine guns, plasma throwers, and other kinds of throwers. He didn't know much about weapons and wasn't particularly eager to stand outside and stare at the sky. Illmond shared his sentiment, but Magenta and Yort had their heads thrown back, watching this bizarre military parade in sheer awe.
Hawk-like vessels with pointed, slightly curved beaks glided slowly over their heads, searching for open space, which was becoming scarcer by the minute. Almost every landing pad was already occupied by Atlas ships specifically, easily identifiable by their signature silver color and the soldiers in military uniform pouring out of them.
But the giant—a massive "Bird" soaring above the rest—drew the most attention. If a behemoth like that landed here, it would crush half of Beacon. Fortunately, it had no intention of touching down, hovering slowly in the sky and occasionally twitching its feather-like flaps.
"The concentration of military ships per square meter is seriously triggering my aggro," Illmond mumbled.
Egrer, on the other hand, felt slightly relieved. Maybe the headmaster himself guessed there was an intruder on Beacon's grounds, which was why he invited such a military contingent here. With this army, no villain could hide for long, and if it came to a fight, they could even take Her down with a concentrated volley from the ship cannons.
But at the same time, there was an unpleasant feeling that this whole mob would gang up on him instead. The military was pretty much like cops, so the former thief tried to stay as far away from them as possible.
"I'll be a son of a bitch!" Yort yelled excitedly, watching an Atlesian shuttle land. "That's the newest Arcadia Stormbreaker! I only seen those shits in pictures."
"Didn't know you were into tech," Egrer noted. "Alright, I'm sick of hanging around here. Let's move."
"Move where? Let's go say 'sup to 'em at least."
"Since when do you care about being polite?" Illmond wondered.
The students from Atlas clearly divided into the "colored" and the "grays." The former looked as eye-gougingly bright, sloppy, and rebellious as possible, wearing toxic shades of clothing and contorting their hairstyles. They were definitely not avid rule-followers, preferring chaos over the orderly behavior of true Atlesians. The colored ones were obviously those who, despite any pressure from society, teachers, and conservative relatives, marched to the beat of their own drum.
In contrast to them, the overwhelming majority wore the exact same gray uniform, their hairstyles were also more or less identical, and the phrase "perfect soldier" practically hung in the air. A standardized, obedient cog in the Atlesian military machine, who would undoubtedly use their skills not on the Huntsman path, but within military structures. The kind willing to sacrifice their own ambitions and desires on the altar for the sake of serving others.
Although, one way or another, both the colored and the grays would be serving society.
The students disembarking the transport smiled at Yort walking towards them, and some even reached out a hand. But the Vacuan gangster just shoved the guy aside, unceremoniously commandeering the vessel. He stepped inside, ignoring the guests' displeased exclamations, and addressed the pilot.
"You're flying a sick-ass bird, man. How's she handle?"
Egrer decided not to get between Yort and Atlesian hardware, which the guy apparently had a soft spot for. Instead, he offered a hand to the guy whose friendliness had been most cruelly trampled upon.
"What a barbarian," he complained, accepting the help. The victim turned out to be a sort of half-blood, neither entirely gray nor colored. Instead of the standard uniform, he wore a black jacket, brown trousers, and a nice hat with a light-blue ribbon, which only slightly set him apart from the grays. Obviously, he just didn't have enough courage or rebellious spirit for anything bolder.
"Yort isn't always like this!" Magenta defended her teammate. "I mean, no, he is always like this, but not exactly like this all the time. Just don't be mad at him."
"It's fine," the guest shrugged and walked away.
"Yort, quit harassing people, we've got Goodwitch soon, and we haven't even changed into combat gear." Egrer peeked inside the Atlesian Bullhead. "If we're late for her class, we're screwed."
The words of reason gave the Vacuan giant pause to reconsider his priorities, and a second later he was back outside. Making a final promise to the pale pilot to return during the break, Yort swaggered off toward the arena.
"You're awfully cocky today," Illmond grumbled.
"You give a shit?"
"More like it annoys me."
"Now, now, let's not fight over nothing!" Magenta squeezed between them and hugged each of them by the arm. The arguers instantly calmed down. "There, super! Let's think about happy things instead!"
"We've got Goodwitch next, what's happy about that?" Illmond grumbled.
And then a freak of nature stood in their way. Some pretty-boy blocked their path and offered a slight bow to Magenta, extending a hand.
"Fair lady, allow me to in~"
"Yort," Egrer said.
The Vacuan giant immediately grabbed the brave lad by the head and chucked him toward the nearest wall. A brief scream and the sound of impact against a hard object were music to their ears. Only the kindhearted Magenta was indignant.
"Hey, he didn't even finish! Interrupting is rude!"
"That ugly bastard doesn't deserve your time, Madge," Illmond said. "He wanted to trick you, drag you into an alley, and pull a gangba~"
"Yort," Egrer said again, and their tame mountain of muscle slapped a hand over the hikikomori's mouth. "Listen, Ill, I'm asking you nicely, don't corrupt Magenta. What if she starts repeating your weird little words without even knowing what they mean? Or worse—what if she actually figures it out?"
Magenta forgot about the airborne would-be suitor and went back to playing peacemaker for the team. The plan worked like clockwork.
Various guys using various pickup tactics often tried to get Magenta's attention and ask her to the dance, but they all met the exact same fate—a flight through the air and a painful landing. Yort had gotten so good at tossing these Casanovas that they always landed squarely on their heads. And the rest of the pack would then try to distract their brave leader with something else. A tried-and-true scheme.
All these freaks wanted was to suck up to the heiress of Toti Appliances! Although, only her own team knew about her social standing... but all these little shits were just operating on instinct! Right! And their innocent butterfly wasn't ready to interact with the opposite sex on that level yet. The holy mission of the men of Team Majesty was to protect their brave leader from all encroachments.
The rest of the walk to Goodwitch's class went without incident.
After changing in the locker room, they took their seats in the arena. Experience had shown that Goodwitch took great pleasure in calling up those who tried to hide at the back desks, so the back rows in her classes were always empty.
Today, however, it was packed. A bunch of visiting Atlesians had taken those seats.
You'd think—you flew in for the Vytal Tournament, you aren't required to attend classes at a different school, you don't have to report to anyone, just follow basic manners and relax. Vale's got tons of things to do while waiting, but no, these outsiders were wandering around everywhere like lost souls.
Then again, that was just Egrer's laziness talking. He personally didn't care about classes, but everyone else dreamed of a career as a great Huntsman. So it was just a difference in perception.
Goodwitch walked into the classroom, and all chatter ceased immediately. She arrived and left with perfect punctuality, so no one doubted that there were only a couple of seconds left until class began.
"Today your class will finally move on to team battles," Goodwitch began right as the bell rang. "You will learn the importance of teamwork, train your coordination with one another, and learn to understand your teammates without words."
Egrer stopped listening and started inspecting the newcomers out of boredom. Majesty happened to have the best teamwork in their year, simply because they were lucky enough to know each other before enrolling.
"The first to enter the arena will be Team JNPR and Team Orichalcum."
JNPR would win. Everyone knew that, because they had the ultimate weapon—Pyrrha Nikos. Only Yang and Illmond could offer her any real resistance. But the latter only kept up because he'd gone to prep school with Pyrrha and frequently sparred with her, meaning he was intimately familiar with her fighting style. Trouble is, it worked both ways, so their duels were over in a flash. A minute tops, but a really dynamic one!
The teams stepped onto the arena and faced each other. Goodwitch gave the signal, and the battle began, but hardly anyone watched. The winner was obvious, so there was no interest in the bout.
Egrer remembered perfectly well how, at first, he'd watched the fights with bated breath. How amazed he was by his classmates' imaginations when they showcased their batshit crazy weapons. Like a double-edged sickle crossed with a grenade launcher and shuriken-thrower. Which actually sounded pretty badass. What about explosive throwing pencils that could also draw with Dust right in the air? Even cooler. Or maybe someone's own hair, capable of becoming stronger than steel with their Semblance while remaining just a few atoms thick?
Semblances were a whole separate topic—just how insane they could be. Those same iron hairs, bringing paper cranes to life, venomous saliva, the ability to turn light into solid matter, temporarily animating drawings...
One guy could straight up put anyone to sleep and shove them into his own dream, where he did whatever the hell he wanted to them. The first fight of that particular genius was the most boring to watch: he just fell asleep along with his opponent, and five minutes later his opponent had no Aura left. Goodwitch had forbidden him from using his Semblance ever since.
But now it had become routine. Combat prep happened almost every day, so Egrer wasn't nearly as surprised when someone pulled off something unexpected. Only when he stepped into the arena personally did his brain shift into high gear, as he had to figure out how to weasel his way out of the fight. Or at least avoid catching too many bruises.
Egrer's head was in the clouds, imagining what he'd do after classes. Might be worth squeezing in some music practice. What could be more beautiful than playing guitar against the backdrop of the setting sun? Or maybe follow Blake's advice and not let his guard down? After all, evil was prowling nearby. Who knew, maybe The Puppeteer was already at Beacon, sitting right next to him?
The fight died down in just a couple of minutes; JNPR wrecked Orichalcum with ease. The only applause came from the guests, who were more impressed by Pyrrha than the fight itself. Pyrrha herself, naturally, wasn't satisfied with such a victory. Not because she couldn't show her stuff against weak opponents, but because her own shine eclipsed her friends.
"Miss Nikos, you rely too much on yourself," Miss Goodwitch began her dressing-down. Even a perfect performance couldn't go without a couple of notes. "By pushing too far ahead and leaving yourself vulnerable to being surrounded, you force your team to struggle to keep up. But not everyone can handle that pace."
She shot a pointed look at Jaune, with whom she always had the most grievances. Despite his daily training with Pyrrha, he had never managed to score higher than an F. However, this time, for the very first time, he earned a passing grade.
"Mr. Arc, I did not expect such leadership qualities from you. I am especially pleased that you are perfectly aware of your inability to deal even the slightest damage to your opponents, choosing instead to command from behind your comrades' backs." But before Jaune could get his hopes up, Goodwitch immediately brought him crashing back down to earth. "However, you should be on the front lines. You are not a general who needs to see the whole picture from a distance; you are the leader of a small squad. So I expect greater participation in battles from you."
After addressing a few more words to the others, she dismissed everyone except Pyrrha.
"Miss Nikos, perhaps you require a more difficult task to properly train your skills. Your Aura hasn't dropped even a few percent, and perhaps you'd be willing to take on a team single-handedly..." she glanced at her ledger, "say, Team CRDL?"
"Pfft," Yort rolled his eyes, "might as well tell her to fight some kittens. Either way, her chances are damn near a hundred percent."
"She just wants to flex for the visitors," Illmond noted apathetically, having watched the entire fight with gritted teeth. "Like, 'Look at us, we've got Pyrrha Nikos enrolled! Let me remind you she's the four-time Mistral regional champion and so on and so forth, you all know the lore.' Ugh."
"Ill, she just wants Pyrrha to be able to grow too," Magenta pointed out softly. "If she easily beats CRDL, then next they'll put her against BSMT, LUMN, or RWBY. If the dumbbell is too light, you've gotta grab a heavier one!"
"Taught her well," Yort chuckled, and they bumped fists.
Of course, Pyrrha didn't refuse. It was highly unlikely there was anyone who would dare to say no to the Steel Lady. Even Ozpin wasn't capable of that.
Keeping a calm expression, the champion waited for her opponents to step into the arena. They had already accepted their defeat but weren't willing to give up so easily. They found comfort in the thought that, maybe, as a four-on-one, they had a chance.
They didn't.
With a 97.7% chance, Pyrrha would wipe the floor with them like children and wouldn't even break a sweat. With a 2-point-something percent chance, she actually would break a sweat. And the probability of Team CRDL winning was so slim that the moon was more likely to crash straight onto their heads. At least, that's what Yort said.
The whole hall had roughly the same estimates, but since this was the first time someone was fighting against four people at once, for once the entire audience paid attention to the arena.
Goodwitch gave the signal, and Pyrrha's first move was transforming her spear into a rifle. Her first couple of shots easily nailed Cardin right in the head, chipping off a few percent of his Aura, before he covered up with his mace.
His teammates surrounded Pyrrha in the meantime. But if they were hoping she wouldn't be able to react to three simultaneous attacks from all sides, they were dead wrong. Not only did she not let a single strike through, she proceeded to hand them their asses. The guy with the mohawk took a hard shield bash to the nose, the Mistralian lost his blades trying to parry a sword strike, and the third hit the deck from a leg sweep.
All of this in less than a second.
Pyrrha's mastery was truly staggering. And even though she wasn't fighting the strongest team, it was still impressive. Furthermore, for some reason, Egrer felt that even if Team RWBY were pitted against her, she'd parry their attacks just as easily and ultimately emerge victorious. Entirely different weight class.
Naturally, Pyrrha won. But this was the first time she'd been put in such unusual conditions, so she involuntarily put on a master class, clearly overestimating her opponents' strength. The crowd cheered; a show of force like that did not go without thunderous applause.
Not to mention the moment Pyrrha threw her shield into one guy's face, and then it ricocheted into another's stomach. It was the best part of the whole match.
"I'm popping a boner right now," Yort suddenly whispered.
"Keep it in your pants," Egrer said.
"She's gorgeous."
"Yort, chill."
"Beat the shit outta them like it was child's play..."
"Pfft, a real Huntsman should clearly read the enemy's aggro level," Illmond grumbled. "She definitely burned more stamina than she needed to. If she was outside the walls, where every minute of rest is gold, she'd drop dead in a couple days. Tryhard."
"Didn't ask you, stringbean. You're just bitching 'cause you can't pull that off yourself." To these dirty insinuations, Illmond replied with an unintelligible grumble.
"She spends her whole life doing nothing but fighting," he finally managed to form a thought. "I, on the other hand, am a much more multifaceted individual with a variety of hobbies under my belt."
"Exactly, you're doing super great," Magenta agreed, grabbing Illmond by the hand. He immediately snapped out of his sad musings over the unattainable ideal and melted, a perverted smile creeping onto his face. "Maybe you're not fighting as well, but you totally draw way better than she does!"
"Madge..." Egrer uttered in a voice thick with suspicion. "How do you know what his drawing looks like?"
"This pervert finally corrupted her," Yort sighed in defeat. The two of them had tried their hardest to keep their butterfly from finding out about the hobby of a certain misunderstood artist, but apparently, the secret was out.
"I peeked at his drawings recently. There was an Ozpinopus and funny pictures of naked people."
Egrer and Yort almost busted a gut laughing; if they hadn't been in class, the whole academy would've heard them. But Illmond's vulgar smile cracked and warped into a strained, nervous twitch. He silently turned his head and locked eyes with Magenta, who had no idea what she had said wrong.
"Funny pictures..." Egrer whispered, doubling over from barely contained laughter. "I'm gonna... hee-hee... I can't... hoo-hoo... Gods, I'm gonna fall over."
"Naked people..." Yort continued, finding himself in a similar state. "Ozpinopus... Man... oof... only she could say some shit like that... pfft-haha."
One could only guess how much Illmond's already low self-esteem plummeted, but what mattered most was that Magenta was just as pure and innocent as ever!
"Next into the arena are Team RWBY and Team MJEI."
Egrer and Yort instantly choked on their laughter. It was foolish to expect Goodwitch to miss their behavior. Wearing looks of absolute defeat, Team Majesty stepped into the arena.
"Yort?" Egrer whispered.
"Twenty-two."
"Not great. Well, shouldn't really count on winning, so there's no point busting our asses."
"You capping?" he replied with annoyance. "I'll bury your ass somewhere for little thoughts like that. Low odds are exactly the reason we gotta go hard. Nah, deadass, if you slack off, I'm literally putting you in the dirt."
This threat forced Egrer to reconsider some of his life priorities. But not for long.
Their main combat unit was Illmond, while for Team RWBY, that title belonged to Yang. So the hottest clash would take place between them; the rest were just extras and support, mainly of the moral variety. Yort simply wouldn't be able to land a hit on the nimble Yang, unless it was a shockwave from his brass knuckles, and Egrer and Magenta would drop after two or three of her punches. However you sliced it, she was just as OP as Illmond, just geared toward a different build.
"Mr. Peleni, during our previous classes I have realized that you are holding back," Miss Goodwitch said before giving the signal.
"Well, it's not so much holding back..." he admitted readily. "You see, I'm used to fighting pretty dirty, and I just don't want to start any bad blood with anyone over it. I doubt anyone would like getting mud thrown in their face or something like that..."
After all, he'd been trained by the most notorious scumbag in Remnant, who had only ever heard the phrase "Fair Fight" in punchlines.
"Nevertheless, I will ask you to fight with everything you have. I'm certain your opponents will understand."
"Yeah, Eg," Yang waved him off and activated her gauntlets. "Don't sweat it, show us what you've got. I'm getting tired of watching you run away all the time."
Considering that The Puppeteer might be present, it wasn't the best decision. But then again, he didn't really want to piss off Goodwitch, either. A couple of dirty tricks would do, but no more.
"Well, since you insist..."
***
Egrer struggled to unglue his eyes. Everything was swimming, focusing on any single object was impossible, and the unpleasant sensation of approaching vomit was rising in his throat. When his consciousness cleared up somewhat, he realized he was in a hospital bed.
"Vhat terrible timing for you to vake up, Herr Peleni," the vivisector's familiar voice returned enough strength for him to execute a sharp dive to the side.
His head immediately spun even harder, and his lunch, straining to get out, finally vacated his stomach.
"Nov vhere are you goink, Herr Peleni? You haff a conchussion, please lie back down."
"Yeah, and pancreatic cancer too," Egrer replied sarcastically, somehow managing to get on his feet. "How the hell did you even drag me in here? Did you slip something in my food?"
"Forgiff me, but vhat iz ze last sh-thing you remember?"
"Huh?" He wasn't planning on answering this butcher, but he inadvertently paused to think. "Got out of bed, had breakfast. Then I'm here."
"Vhat a nightmare, it is much vorse zan I ash-zhumed. You haff amnezhia," the doctor picked up a scalpel and wiped it with a cloth. "I vill rez-store all your memoriez, zjust trust me. Tozgether, ve shall fix zis."
"Don't give me that bullshit." Egrer looked down and saw what he was wearing. And what he saw horrified him—he was dressed in a hospital gown with a square cutout on his chest, and on his chest itself was a dotted line, as if he was about to be operated on. "What the hell were you about to do to me?!"
"You zee, it haz been a long time zhince I had a patient viz a depleted Aura, zo I could not let zhuch a unique eggs-periment pass by. You know a scalpel vill not zjust cut zhrough ze skin of zhe Aura-gifted~"
"You were gonna harvest me for organs?! Cut out my heart?!"
"Hov can you zhink zhuch a thing? Zhat I, Jhozeph Mungelier, vould vaste zhuch a rare chance on money? Nein, my dear freund, you vould haff become a valuable rezource, advancing ze science of medishin!"
"I don't wanna hear another word! Where's my clothes?"
"You urzhently need an operazhion." The doctor took a step forward, forcing Egrer to back up fearfully behind a table with medical instruments. The mere sight of them made him want to throw up again. What the hell was that toothy saw for anyway? And those creepy-shaped scissors with weird rubber bits on the tips? "Trust me, viz time your amnezhia vill only get vorse. Hish-tory even holds cazzes of a total loss of ba-zhic knowledge, like language. You zhurely do not vish to become, vhat do zhey call it, a veg-zhetable?"
"I'll become a vegetable if I stay here for another minute!" the mutinous patient frantically looked around for his clothes. He found them on a nearby chair, neatly folded in a stack. Snatching his things up in an armful, Egrer took a running leap and dove for the window.
Only to immediately bounce off and tumble to the floor. Upon hitting the bulletproof glass, he realized that he truly didn't have any Aura at all. His side throbbed, and the impact brought back the dizziness and nausea.
"Zere, zere," Mungelier said quietly, as if talking to a mentally ill person. "You zhurely do not zhink you are ze first to atzempt zhuch a dezh-perate move?"
Egrer sprang quickly to his feet and tried to find a handle, a lock, or anything that could open this window. No dice.
The vivisector stepped between him and the only door out. He approached slowly, holding a syringe filled with some inexplicable grayish sludge. Egrer was completely defenseless now...
"I'll scream! Don't come any closer!"
"You may vish to zcream as loud as you vant, zhese valls are zoundproof. You zhurely do not zhink you are ze first?" he repeated with a smirk. By now, Mungelier wasn't even trying to pretend to be a normal doctor; the wild stare of a mad scientist instantly gave him away as a veteran psycho.
A knock at the door saved Egrer from his imminent demise in the dungeons of the medical bay.
"Vun moment, pleaze zettle yourself on ze operazing table for nov." The malicious gleam vanished from the doctor's eyes. He adjusted his round spectacles and cracked the door open slightly. "Fraulein Tozi, I haff already told you forzy-zhree times not to knock every five minutez. I am fightink for ze life of your freund."
"Madge, save me!!!" Egrer screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to squeeze through the vivisector's legs. "This lunatic wants to harvest me for organs!!!"
Mungelier clamped his legs together, catching the almost-escaped patient in a crushing knee-grip.
"Ze vhictim iz currenzhly havink a panic atzhack," the doctor calmly began to justify himself. "He is relivink ze vazt seconts of your batzhle vith Team RVBY in his zcull."
"Oh, got it. Is that curable?"
"Na-zhurally..."
"Madge, don't listen to him!" Egrer shouted, extending his hands pleadingly toward her. "Get me out of here, I'm completely fine, I swear! Who are you gonna believe, me or him?!"
Magenta looked confused and didn't know what to do. But to her credit, she decided to listen to her friend over the shady guy passing himself off as a doctor.
Mungelier offered a bit of resistance, but an insistent Magenta managed to get inside and oversee Egrer's discharge. The vivisector handed him a medical exemption note for combat prep and PE, as well as a slip obligating him to return in a day for a follow-up examination. The patient tore it into a hundred tiny pieces the second he stepped outside the medical bay walls.
The long-awaited freedom greeted him with a setting sun. Just how long had he been lying in the infirmary? Had Mungelier really failed to dissect him since the morning?
"Madge, so what exactly happened before I blacked out?" he asked after a minute of fruitless pondering.
Magenta suddenly grabbed him tightly by the hand.
"Aaa-lrighty, we're going back to the doctor." And with those words, she started dragging him back. Tearing himself away from her steel grip was pointless; even Yort wasn't capable of that. Nevertheless, he braced his legs against the floor, his soles sliding over the stone ground. Not that it helped or even slowed them down in the slightest...
What did I say wrong?! Do I actually have amnesia? So that fight with RWBY that Mungelier mentioned actually happened?
"Wait-wait, I remembered!" Egrer let out a strained laugh, as if he found this situation hilarious. "That exact fight with Team RWBY during combat prep, right! Whew, well, next time we'll show them, we'll snatch victory right out of their cold, dead hands!"
"Eg..." Magenta said this with the tone of someone speaking to a sick patient, "we won, Eg."
"Wait, what?! O-o-oh," he pretended to have just remembered, "Right, right, wow we totally handed it to them! Taught 'em a lesson! I always said that if we really want to, no one's a match for us."
"Eg..." she said it again with notes of pity, "we didn't win because we were stronger, but because you pissed Yang off so much that she hit you while you were in the red. You even lost a tooth. They were disqualified."
Egrer involuntarily ran his tongue over his teeth and, sure enough, found one missing. Well, that explains why his Aura still hadn't recharged. After a break, it needs a couple of days for that.
Memories began slowly returning, accompanied by a headache.
"Ah-h-h, right, right! I planned it that way all along, honestly." This third time Magenta didn't even bother to listen to him, just kept dragging him along. "Don't take me back to that butcher! He's not a doctor, he's a quack and a vivisector!"
"Joseph Mungelier is a highly respected Doctor of Medical Sciences in the scientific community; he can be trusted," she stated with an intelligent air. Except those clearly weren't her own words; she wouldn't normally use such expressions.
"He told you that himself, didn't he? Great guy to put your trust in! I remember everything now, I swear!"
"Really?" Magenta squinted at him suspiciously.
Egrer began retelling the events of Goodwitch's class—which he'd much rather never recall again. He'd done a number that day; Yang definitely deserved to knock his tooth out. He didn't remember the exact details anyway, but even this patchy account satisfied Magenta.
Suddenly Egrer ducked down, pressing his side against the wall. He carefully peeked out the window and hid again.
"What's wrong?"
"Team RWBY is camping out there. Probably came for my soul. I'd better hide in our room for a week, maybe by then they'll have cooled off."
"No," Magenta declared, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. "You need to apologize."
"But I already got what was coming to me!" Egrer planted his hands and feet on the floor, but to no avail. Without Aura, he wouldn't even be able to safely jump out a third-story window, let alone fight back. "Don't hand me over to them, Yang and Weiss will dismember me and feed me to the Nevermores!"
"Hey there!" Magenta stepped outside and waved to Team RWBY. Dragged behind her, Egrer shrunk into himself and started struggling with renewed vigor. "He wants to apologize to you guys and promise never to do that again."
"I didn't do anything wrong!" he started making excuses. "It's all Goodwitch's fault, she was the one who told me not to hold back! Kill her, not me!"
"You spat in my face!" Weiss hissed, taking a menacing step forward. "Literally! You, not Goodwitch!"
"But you gotta admit, I masterfully took you out of the fight for a few seconds while you were wiping it off. I did it for my team and you won't dare judge me for that!"
"You wrapped my own hair around my neck!" Yang picked up the baton.
"Well why did you grow your mane out so long? They were practically begging to be yanked."
"Just try it one more time," she threatened Egrer with her fist, "try it, and you're dead meat."
"What are you complaining about? You straight up kicked me in the nuts right after, and so hard I dropped from green straight to red! That's just completely out of bounds! And not only that, you hit me with a finisher to the face!" Egrer pointed to his smile, where a gap was now visible in his row of straight teeth.
Unfortunately, Aura couldn't regenerate lost body parts, even trivial ones like teeth. But there was one upside to this situation—now Egrer would have a reason to sport a gold tooth. He had already decided he would absolutely visit a dentist and get one installed in place of the lost one. Not Mungelier, a normal dentist in Vale.
"Serves you right for the nuts and the teeth! You flipped up Ruby's skirt!"
Ruby stood behind them with her head hanging down. She was muttering, "They saw everything, they saw everything..." and completely ignored everyone around her.
Actually, that little trick cost Egrer not only his bruised manhood and a knocked-out tooth with depleted Aura, but also a flustered Illmond, who had no idea where to look: at an advancing Blake or at Ruby's panties.
Blake, by the way, was the only one who hadn't fallen victim to some underhanded trick, but only because Egrer knew her less than the rest. Yang was obsessed with her hair, Weiss was a neat freak, and Ruby was a shy girl; he'd just played on their weaknesses.
"What's with all the yelling and no brawling?" Yort stepped out towards them, Illmond scurrying along behind him like a tail. "Oh, Eg, how you doing? You kicked up a sick ruckus back there, why haven't you fought like that before? Maybe you wouldn't look so pathetic in Goodwitch's classes."
"That is exactly why I didn't do it!" the unjustly condemned Egrer pointed to a furious Yang and Weiss.
"Come on, Eg," Illmond chimed in. "The view was great."
"What view?" The grinding of Yang's teeth and Ruby's fresh whimper made it instantly clear what he was referring to. "Idiot, don't drive me even deeper into the grave! If you're grateful, you'd better help me out!"
"Combat skirts are bullshit," Illmond immediately declared, attempting to cover for his friend. He peeked out from behind Yort slightly, obviously feeling awkward in such a large crowd. "It's way better to wear something tight, so your as~"
"We gotchu." Yort clamped a hand over his mouth before things got even worse. "Pretty sure they'll draw their own conclusions from this match."
"Personally, a skirt has never gotten in my way," Magenta admitted.
"That's because you don't do any backflips or sprint across the battlefield, unlike Ruby," Egrer explained, flashing a toothless grin. He was blatantly trying to suck up to her so she'd finally let him go. "You burn everything down without stepping away from the register."
"He-he." She appreciated the joke and blushed. "We just have a small arena, Rainbow Flash can shoot a stream up to sixty meters."
"Just because Ruby likes somersaulting in the air, it doesn't mean you can go flipping her skirt up," Yang continued to vent, as befitted a good older sister.
"That means she'd already managed to flash everything during a random somersault or backflip," Illmond enlightened her, pushing Yort's hand away from his face. "But even despite that upside, from a combat perspective—skirts are dumb."
"Hey, combat skirts are cool!" Ruby suddenly perked up. She clearly only heard the second half of his sentence, or simply preferred not to think about the first.
"Exactly!" Weiss agreed. "And if you know a few secrets, nothing gets 'flashed,' as you put it."
"Wait a minute," Blake raised her hand, "you just agreed with Ruby. Am I hearing things?"
"Just because we're constantly butting heads doesn't mean we have polar opposite opinions on literally everything. We are both Huntsmen and we both study at the same academy, we simply must have some shared interests." She cast a disapproving glance at her hope-radiating leader. "Ruby, don't look at me like that. We still have zero chance of becoming friends."
"Don't make excuses, snowflake, or you'll melt." Yang hugged her, though it looked more like a chokehold.
"Xiao Long, let go of me right this instant!"
"They dropped aggro," Illmond whispered to Yort. The latter gave a knowing nod and quickly scooped Egrer into his arms, but since Magenta still hadn't let go of his scruff, Illmond ended up having to carry her in his arms.
"Hey, where do you think you're going!?" Yang yelled at their backs when they started to bolt. "We go to the same school, don't think you can hide forever!"
The retreat was successful, but then again, Team RWBY wasn't trying to catch them. They'd already said their piece. Plus, it's doubtful Goodwitch would praise them for knocking out a couple more of Egrer's teeth, so he was relatively safe. At least until his Aura recharged.
And even though their brave leader kicked up a fuss that he'd never actually apologized, she quickly grew tired of it. Her attention shifted to Illmond, who still hadn't put her down.
"Ill, put Madge down right now," Egrer ordered, gently peeling Magenta's fingers from his collar.
"Nah," he replied with a satisfied smile. His palm started rubbing along the legs of a blushing Magenta, who was fruitlessly trying to say something. "I can carry her like a princess for a long time. You don't mind being my princess, right?"
Illmond was supposed to destroy the evil, not join them!
"Yort."
"Gotcha." The Vacuan giant immediately smacked Illmond on the head, allowing their brave leader to get back on her feet. "Try feeling her up one more time, you 2D jackoff, and guess what I'm gonna tear off you."
"It wasn't harassment," the perverted hikki grumbled, rubbing the crown of his head.
"Then what was it?" Egrer asked with a chuckle. "An advanced pickup technique? Just don't show it to Jaune; if he hits on Weiss like that, she'll break his arms. And she'd be right to."
"Don't do that again," Magenta requested bashfully, smacking Illmond's arm. "First a boy is supposed to give a girl flowers and candies, and only then carry her in his arms."
Yort and Egrer exchanged a wary look. It seemed she was starting to understand how relationships worked. Sure, her view was mind-numbingly childish, but before, she had never even given it any thought at all.
Kids grow up so fast... it evokes a mix of sadness and joy, along with pride.
Because sooner or later, Magenta would find herself a young man, and the two of them, as her primary defenders from all sorts of perverts and womanizers, would have to accept it. Was this how parents felt when they realized their child was about to leave the nest?
The only thing is, if she ended up getting together with Illmond, it would evoke nothing but absolute disappointment in her guardians. Both Yort and Egrer would want equally badly to get rid of the conceited hikikomori. He would only corrupt her, turning their adorable ball of cuteness into something horrible.
Which was why they couldn't let that happen.
"Actually, no," Egrer chimed in, interrupting Illmond's filthy fantasies. He had clearly already started planning a trip to the flower shop, hoping to get his grubby paws on their naive leader. "Flowers and candy aren't enough; a boy has to prove his feelings with actions! Like Jaune; he beat Cardin and dedicated his victory to Weiss."
"I remember, I remember, that was such a romantic moment!" Magenta nodded vigorously. "I had shivers."
"Let Ill kick Pyrrha's ass first, and only then he can stretch his stubs toward you. That's a good feat, right?"
"Yes! Ill, beat Pyrrha, got it?"
"You guys are just mocking me, you monsters! I don't have the slightest chance!" He immediately turned to Yort, who was opening his mouth. "Zip it, don't be a smartass."
"Just an extra excuse to hit the gym." Their tame clairvoyant smirked.
"Exactly," Egrer agreed. "As ancient wisdom dictates: a healthy spirit in a healthy body. Get in shape, and your brain'll fall into place too. Or did you get scared at the very first obstacle and decide to give up on Madge's heart? What weak willpower!"
Illmond turned away in a huff.
"No one needs to prove anything to anyone. If two people feel affection for each other, these kinds of formalities can only ruin everything."
But no one heard him; the rest had already moved on. They still needed to get changed for PE.
***
Egrer was sitting on the bench for health reasons, watching the game on the court. And there was plenty to look at—basketball had almost escalated into a bloody brawl yet again. This time, the team captains had started accusing each other of breaking the rules after a few OP Semblances started breaking the very point of the game. Very few people liked it when their opponent could turn invisible, super-fast, leave a clone of themselves behind, phase through others, or just stretch their body like rubber.
The PE teacher listened carefully to the captains' positions and ordered them not to waste time on this crap, but to just punch each other's faces in. Again.
Naturally, a fight broke out for the opportunity to prove the opponents' vile misdeeds while whitewashing their own image. The only ones left out were the subs and the particularly self-aware individuals who decided not to waste their energy on such a barbaric conflict-resolution method. Among them were Blake and Weiss, who were among the first to leave the battlefield.
"Wreck 'em, Yort!" Egrer yelled, raising a fist. His cry of friendly support drowned in a multitude of others just like it. "Jaune, carry the team!"
Jaune lunged at Cardin with his fists and immediately caught a knee to the stomach. Without his friend's Semblance, he was completely incapable of fighting back against the top bully of the first year.
"Do you think we should tell him?" asked Pyrrha, who was also watching their brawl. "About the fact that it wasn't really him who beat Cardin in the duel. I'm just afraid his overconfidence might backfire on him."
She was also sitting on the bench. As usually happened, the champion was holding back heavily and took the first chance she got to leave the playing field, swapping places with Magenta.
"Why are you asking me?"
"There's no one else. Only you know what really happened that day."
"I just hope these revelations don't get him playing that same old tune about how he doesn't belong at Beacon. He might get depressed all over again, who knows. He wanted to prove to us that he could do something himself so badly."
"Do you think it's better to keep him in the dark? I... don't want to lie to him forever. But I don't want to upset him either."
"Yeah, crappy situation. On one hand, we're lying straight to his face; on the other, we risk breaking him with the cruel truth." Egrer grabbed his hair and lowered his head to his knees. "I am so sick of these dilemmas, if you only knew... Whichever chair you sit on, your ass is gonna get hurt."
First he had to decide whose side he was on regarding the matchmaking: Weiss's or Jaune's. Then family or friends. Now this too.
"I want to tell him everything," Pyrrha continued. "The main goal was achieved—Cardin left Jaune alone. I should have done it right then, instead of stalling. But I chickened out; Jaune was so happy..."
She'd always been fairly weak-willed, so Egrer could imagine just what a difficult choice this question presented to her.
Pyrrha rarely crossed other people, seeking compromises instead, or even surrendering her own opinions and desires. A very convenient person who doesn't know how to say "No," and whose greatest fear is upsetting those around her. How did she even manage to become a four-time champion? Must've been entirely thanks to her Semblance...
"Putting off decisions for the future is a bad idea," Egrer shared his thoughts. "I've been burned by that a couple times myself."
"So what do you think?"
"As if me telling you 'Don't do it' is actually gonna stop you." It sounded like a mockery, because yes, she probably would do exactly that.
"Depends on your arguments." Pyrrha shrugged uncertainly. "I don't know what the right thing to do here is, and which decision will turn out better. That's why I'm asking."
"I don't know either. In moments like this, there are no right decisions, both will only make things worse. So it doesn't matter whether you tell him or stay quiet."
If Jaune was kept in the dark, he'd be happy. He'd train little by little and get stronger, until he could actually defeat Cardin for real. But his overconfidence that he possessed some kind of power right now could indeed lead to disaster. But if he were told everything, he'd start doubting his right to study at Beacon all over again and to have friends who are forced to babysit him.
"Then let everything stay as it is," Pyrrha said.
Egrer didn't doubt that she'd rather suffer herself than shift that burden onto Jaune. But he didn't want to talk her out of it; there truly was no right decision here. This specific choice was no worse than the other.
The subject of their discussion, meanwhile, kept getting his face beaten in. He clearly wasn't in the same weight class to compete with the opposing team or offer any help to his own, so he was left by the wayside. He would've been sent to the bench right from the start if Professor Shalibi hadn't declared that the scrawny kids also needed to participate in the lesson. He silenced the captains' protests by delivering a cuff to the back of their heads.
"Victory goes to Team Xiao Long!" roared the mountain of black muscles who called himself the physical education professor. "Great job, kids, well played! Balls in the basket, and the falling plaster and other trash will be cleaned up by the losing scrubs. Rose, go fetch Glynda, we need to patch the holes in the wall."
Taking advantage of the free minute, Jaune began hitting on Weiss. Judging by her emotionless face, she had already accepted his annoying advances as something inevitable, like the sunrise. Every day the sun rises in the east, and every day Jaune Arc tries to make heart eyes at Weiss.
Egrer groaned in despair. This scene only gave him a headache.
"What is it?" asked an attentive Pyrrha.
"Just a headache. Decided to help Jaune get Weiss, and now I'm regretting it. This little scheme only has a nine-and-a-half percent chance of success."
"But aren't you and her~"
"That is exactly why I decided to do it!" Egrer snapped. "So that all of you would finally get it through your heads that there's nothing between us. Is that really so hard to understand?"
"You don't need to react like that," Pyrrha smiled kindly. "Big deal, it's not like anything terrible has happened."
"You're only saying that because Yang's seditious little jokes aren't aimed at you. She's got a real talent for making people blush. How would you react if she suddenly started shipping you and Cardin?"
"Negatively, but that's a completely incorrect example. You don't despise Weiss like I do Cardin; quite the opposite, you two are very close friends."
Egrer lost his train of thought.
"Yeah... you're right, that's different. But it doesn't make me feel any better."
"And by the way, Yang only jokes like that about the two of you. She leaves Ren and Nora alone, for example."
"That's true actually..." Egrer mused.
Pretty much everyone at Beacon knew that those two had feelings for each other, yet for some reason, they were in no rush to start dating "officially." It was very strange that Yang constantly ignored such a goldmine for her idiotic jokes. She even left Jaune's clumsy attempts at romance almost entirely alone, even though she saw his struggling every day.
"But why?"
"I think the answer is obvious," Pyrrha replied meaningfully. "Tell me, why do you react so intensely whenever you and Weiss are brought up?"
"Because it's all lies and slander, obviously. Now, Jaune's a masochist, yeah, he'll actually enjoy sharing a life with such a toxic woman, but I value my nerve cells too much."
"Maybe you're just too embarrassed to admit you find her attractive? Is that why you're always saying that no one in their right mind would ever date her?"
"Oh, you're gonna start making jokes too?" Egrer asked darkly. "You're trying to say I'm a tsundere like Weiss? I had my hands full with Yang, and now you..."
"Don't take it so to heart," Pyrrha smiled kindly. "It was just a guess. Perhaps it's incorrect."
"It's definitely incorrect."
"If you say so."
They silently looked over at the person who had started this argument. Jaune continued to hit on Weiss, while she answered all his attempts with monosyllabic and utterly unenthusiastic responses. However, that modicum of attention was enough to make the unstoppable Casanova happy.
"Jaune will have a hard time with Weiss," Pyrrha sighed. "But if he remains as stubborn as always, he'll definitely achieve his goal."
"If only he had literally anything else besides his stubbornness... I don't even have a single idea what step to take next. I mean, they've got nothing in common. They're interested in different things, they have opposing outlooks on life. There's just absolutely nothing that could help them latch onto each other. Plus, that blue-haired preppy has somehow struck a chord with her..."
"Jaune has many positive qualities besides his stubbornness," Pyrrha noted sternly.
"Nah, just ignore my rambling. I bet you anything he only fell in love with Weiss because of her looks, and it'll pass soon."
"You think so?"
"Hundred percent. What do you think? You know him just as well as I do."
"Well, probably..." She chewed on her lip, deep in thought. "Probably yes, they wouldn't be able to stay together-together for long."
"Only just together," Egrer answered with a chuckle.
And on that quote from the great classic of their time, Nora Valkyrie (while completely ignoring the context in which she says it), they set about cleaning the classroom. After all, they were both on the team of Yort, who had lost this brawl.