Relic of the Future: Chapter 8

"Mr Ashari," Ironwood greeted as they entered the room, breakfast having been dealt with. The tall man stood next to a slightly smaller woman Jaune instantly categorised as a huntress. It was the way she watched him, really. She was judging his skill in return. "I hope you've had a chance to rest. This is Samantha Greening, one of our teachers here at the academy."

"Nice to meet you," Jaune said, extending a hand.

"A pleasure," she echoed, shaking it. She had mousy brown hair that fell in curls around her shoulders and a polite smile. In a way, she looked an odd mix between Ruby and Glynda – and that wasn't a thought he'd ever dared harbour.

"Samantha has agreed to spar with you to test your skill," Ironwood explained. "She teaches younger students here, ones between the ages of eleven and sixteen."

Signal level, then. That didn't mean she'd be any weaker, of course, and it was possibly quite the opposite. Although the training at higher levels was much harder on the students, it was early development that was key. The more applicants that could be trained up and put forward, the more huntsmen and huntresses you'd get at the end of the day.

[...]

She drew out her weapon, which appeared to be two – a handgun in her left hand and a mecha-shift weapon in the right, currently in the form of a short sword. Unlike Blake's, they weren't connected by a ribbon or chain. "Are you ready to begin, Mr Ashari?"

"Sure." He drew Crocea Mors, but again chose not to reveal his shield. "Is the ring active? Are the aura readers up?"

"They are. You may be-"

He was already moving. A fight didn't start on some pre-arranged signal and only an idiot wasted a chance to close the distance while your opponent was distracted. Qrow had taught him that. Crocea Mors swept into her guard, but she was able to bring her weapon up to block with only a small amount of surprise. As he'd expected, she wasn't just talented, but experienced in her own right. She twisted her wrist to force his blade high and pushed her gun towards his chest.

His spare hand batted it aside and a shot pinged off the barriers around the ring harmlessly. Jaune stepped in with his left foot, planting it between hers and using his weight to check her, knocking her back a few paces. Rather than follow straight on, he spun, offering her his back for a moment – but knowing she didn't have the footing to take advantage – before he completed his spiral and sent his sword crashing into her gun arm, trying to disarm her.

To his surprise she reversed the handgun and caught his blade between the barrel and grip. She lashed out with her short-sword and would have scored a strike on his ribs but for him catching it by the blade, flooding his hand with aura to prevent it cutting through his skin. He hooked a leg between and around hers. She hooked her other around his thigh, practically mounting him, but also preventing him from tripping her. She drove her forehead into his nose once, twice, three times, before she discharged her weapon, having twisted it while he was distracted being head-butted. The dust round hit him in the inside of the elbow, making his arm buckle and grip falter.

He still managed to get a good kick on her knee when she disengaged and backed off – one strong enough to make her stagger for a moment. She limped back but he didn't allow it. When the opponent had a ranged option and you didn't, there could be no letting up. He swung towards her head but feinted at the last, ignoring her block and his own sword entirely. He rammed his shoulder into her instead, pinning her sword to her breasts, and dropped Crocea Mors in the same motion. Both his hands grappled with her left, twisting and squeezing until she was forced to let go of her weapon with a pained yelp. He kicked it aside, out of the ring. She rammed the hand guard of her weapon into the back of his head.

As they parted, he pushed a foot under Crocea Mors and kicked it back up into his hand. She was down one weapon but still had her short sword, which she held before her in two hands. The exchange had lasted less than a minute and yet both their auras had taken damage, his on eighty-eight or so and hers around seventy-nine.

Those in the audience murmured in surprise, no doubt shocked at just how brutal and quick a fight between real huntsmen could be. And she was a real huntress, he had to accept that. Not for her the reliance on a single weapon or fighting style, but an easy adaptability that spoke of years of combat, both against Grimm and humans.

"You're down a weapon," Jaune noted.

"I suppose I am. You'll forgive me if I don't concede here and now."

He nodded. Someone like her would be prepared for that eventuality, as Ruby had eventually learned to be whenever she lost Crescent Rose. The two of them circled one another, now reduced to melee only and content to take a moment to inspect the other's style. Hers was measured and calm, with one foot back and a posture that hinted she'd give ground and draw him into a fight on her terms.

His, he knew, looked more rigid and unyielding. It was a refined version of what was probably the most standard and beginner-friendly stance ever, sword held in two hands centre-body and feet spread evenly, giving him manoeuvrability in every direction if needs be. Pyrrha had taught him the basics first, and there really hadn't been time for him to learn much more. He'd stuck with it and adapted it to suit, however.

It was he who broke the deadlock, charging in once more. Now able to focus solely on her weapon, Samantha's defence was impenetrable and the two danced around the ring, covering far more distance than most beginners did. Fights weren't nearly as static as many took them for and the ring was too small for them in most terms. Were this a real fight, they'd have been using the walls, lockers and even the benches as impromptu shields, weapons and obstacles.

Jaune swept high and she ducked low, blocking his snap-kick with crossed arms and rolling away from his overhead swing. A foot swept into the back of his shin and knocked it aside. He managed to stay standing but staggered, and she took the chance to roll away and up behind him. He heard the tell-tale click of mechanical gears shifting. He couldn't see, but he knew the sound like nothing else, thanks both to Ruby and Nora, and the constant fights they had.

There was no telling what her second weapon-type was, but he didn't hesitate. His left hand left Crocea Mors to tear his scabbard free, turning and deploying it into its shield form a moment before the explosive rounds struck.

His legs buckled and fire washed over him, along with smoke and a distinct scent of ozone. So, she had another ranged option but had chosen to conceal it, luring him in with the false promise of being disarmed if he took away her gun. Clever. The smoke from the attack washed over him and concealed the two of them from view. By all means, that should have been the end of it – would have, if not for the audible click of another round entering the chamber of her weapon. It was all he needed to find her.

The woman gasped as he tore from the smoke – unable to see him until the last second and now woefully unprepared. She recovered admirably and brought her weapon up to block, but he switched and charged her with his shield instead, pinning her own weapon against her body and carrying her back to the edge of the ring. She saw it and cursed, hooking an arm around his shield so he couldn't throw her off.

Not that it did any good. He tossed his shield away entirely, sending her tumbling out of the ring with a startled cry and a solid `oomph` when she hit the floor.

"Match by ring-out," Ironwood called. "The victor is Jaune Ashari."

—Relic of the Future: Chapter 8