Relic of the Future: Chapter 131, Chapter 133

"Three. Two. One. Go!"

Bertilak lunged forward swinging his mace with one hand in a brutishly effective attack. Jaune answered by simply stepping back and letting it swing by, curious to see what the man's next move would be and whether he might wear himself down by exerting himself in this punishing heat. When the swing missed, Bertilak kept going, a backhand lashing out with his free hand as he shifted one foot back, brought his mace up high and down, all with the momentum from the first attack.

The mace struck the sand and sent up a wall of dust and grit that obscured Jaune's vision and sent him jogging around to clear it. A single gunshot pierced through the air and the cloud. A gun mace. Of course it's a gun mace. What could I have been thinking? Bertilak came hurtling through the cloud of sand before it could disperse, shouldering Jaune in the chest and pushing him back.

When his hand tried to grasp his collar, however, Jaune brought Crocea Mors down, pommel smashing into the man's wrist to knock it aside while the blade went for his neck. The single swing forced Bertilak to sway aside, which he did with a speed belying his huge size and girth.

He was quick. Not fast by the measure of Ruby or Raven, but quick on his feet and economical with his movements in a way Vacuo must have taught him. No wild swings like Cardin, but a single swing that led into three attacks. In heat like this, every missed blow took a toll on the aggressor. Every swing carried the weight of three and after just one, sweat had begun to form on Jaune's brow. He wasn't used to the heat. Not like Bertilak and Carmine were.

Disengaging, Jaune stabbed his left hand down and came up with a handgun, squeezing off three shots. Bertilak tanked through two and blocked the third with his mace, then rushed in to limit his range. That he didn't shoot back when he had a gun in his mace was telling. Limited range, ammunition or firing capacity. The thing did look rusted and worn.

Rather than holster the gun, he threw it in Bertilak's face and ducked low, bracing on one knee and thrusting Crocea Mors into the charging man's path. The weapon didn't distract as intended, though. Bertilak didn't even make to swat it aside, grunting as it hit his face. His eyes remained locked on Jaune, and his mace crashed into Crocea Mors, knocking it aside. Jaune rolled with the impact, out of the path of the charging man, who stopped in a crouch, one hand to the sand collecting a handful of grit. Qrow must have been having flashbacks.

Memorising his weak position, Jaune closed his eyes and slashed down. As expected, Bertilak heaved the sand into his face – but what wasn't expected was the burning pain as it seared along his aura, slicing over his cheeks and drawing blood before he could reinforce it. Shocked, Jaune broke his attack and threw himself to the left, hearing the impact of a mace behind. Opening his eyes, he gingerly touched his cheek, pulling his hand away bloody.

Had Bertilak hidden a weapon in the process of collecting sand? Had he done that knowing Jaune would notice, then substituted it with a throwing knife? Impossible. He would have noticed if the man had that on him. Instead, he noticed the faint wisps of smoke coming from Bertilak's fingers and the droplets of what looked like water falling from them. The water touched the sand and embedded into it, whole and clear, glinting in the sun. Glass.

The lovechild of Cardin, Russel and Cinder. How ridiculous. Had this guy been to the car boot sale of Beacon and taken his pick of gear, aesthetics and Semblance? It was practically identical to Cinder's, even down to how she used it to create glass weaponry.

Heat generation, and at a temperature high enough to turn sand to glass. He wasn't sure of the physics involved, but that temperature would be more than high enough to burn flesh, too. Better not let this guy get a hold of me or I'm in trouble. Still, this explains why he's one of the strongest huntsmen in Vacuo. The ability to turn sand into a weapon in a desert speaks for itself.

"Figured it out?" Bertilak asked angrily.

Jaune nodded. "It wasn't hard."

"Damn smartass."

Bertilak charged him down again, twisting his mace around in a feint that Jaune tracked, ignoring the first and locking the second. He dodged and then stamped down on the second, ripping the mace out of Bertilak's grip. Crocea Mors swept in for his throat, nicking skin and aura before the man could roll back and stab both his hands into the sand.

The ground under Jaune's feet began to shift – Bertilak couldn't heat fast enough to reach and ensnare him in glass, but the sudden shift closer to him had caused an imbalance in mass, and a dune was nothing but a carefully piled hill of sand. With the sand closer to Bertilak compacted, the sand around Jaune's feet began to rush inward. He stumbled and jumped back before he could fall and be drawn in. Rolling back as best he could, he watched as the glass expanded and reached the mace, giving a slippery slope for it to screech its way back to its wielder.

In no way was that useable as an attack – it was too slow to spread – but it was still a problem. In desperation, Bertilak could flash melt the sand around him, making extreme closer quarters dangerous.

Bertilak stood suddenly, hefting his mace over his shoulder and closing his eyes. "I give up."

What?

"WHAT!?" Carmine howled.

"I said I give up. You hard of hearing now?"

"You'll be hard of breathing soon enough. You drag me out to find them, make me buy a bottle if expensive wine and introduce you, then make me drag your sorry butt all the way out here for a fight, only to give up after a few minutes?"

"He's figured me out." Bertilak said gruffly. "Figured my Semblance, my fighting style and my weapon." He glared Jaune's way. "Isn't that right?"

"Super heating anything you touch. A mace with a one-chamber magazine. Heavy swings using momentum to conserve energy and forcing your enemies to expend theirs dodging."

Carmine looked impressed. Bertilak… He looked pleased. "Exactly. No point pushing this any further. It's my loss unless I can grab him, and he isn't going to come anywhere near me knowing my Semblance. Fighting on is pointless."

"As if that's ever stopped you before. Ugh. Fine. Jaune Ashari-Schnee is the winner. Great. Can we get back to the city now?

—Relic of the Future: Chapter 131



"Because Ashari will kill me if I'm not." Bertilak answered for him. He closed his eyes, grunting harshly. "I'm the strongest huntsman in Vacuo. He's stronger. If I mess up or put you in danger, he'll hunt me down and kill me."

Rashem and Rosa looked to Jaune, who nodded slowly. He hadn't brought it up with Bertilak, but that was quite clearly the cost of betrayal. Bertilak planned for this. I guess the fight really was a show of faith. By showing me his Semblance and style, he handed me the tools to defeat him. What better way is there of proving he'll stay loyal?

—Relic of the Future: Chapter 133