—Forged Destiny [Book 9: Ch. 22, Ch. 23]

Ruby's eyes bulged as Jaune – the real Jaune – ducked out from behind the last root he'd used, the one Salem was still fighting with, and swept in under her guard. He'd thrown aside his armour and left himself in nothing but a tunic and his jerkins, a silvery amulet bouncing on his chest.

[...]

How do you figure that?" Salem asked. "I hear your people coming. They won't make a difference here. I can use this forest you created to escape, and I'll make them rue your name when I come to slaughter them all. So, tell me, Jaune, what have you achieved in this life of yours?"

[...]

Salem brought her hand down and sent an orb of black punching into Jaune's stomach. Unprotected, it took him up and through the metal tree, crashing down on the other side and dropping an entire Ironwood tree on him.

—Forged Destiny [Book 9: Ch. 22]



Everything was agony.

I forced my eyes open, saw red through one and then closed it. My hand came up, wiping away blood that was either running down my face or the remains of my eye. I couldn't tell which; it was impossible to pinpoint where pain began or ended. An Ironwood tree had pinned me down, its trunk crushing me against the soft ground. If it weren't for the others criss-crossed above and below, one which supported it and stopped it coming down further, I wouldn't be alive at all.

"Ruby…"

With a grunt, I tried and failed to move the trunk – then realised blearily what I was and slapped a hand against it instead, stoking the forge. The tree's bark rippled and moulded, becoming molten hot but not harming me. I couldn't drag myself out and instead asked it to push me. Something hard nudged into my back and rolled me over, out from under it.

"Thanks," I mumbled, knowing it couldn't really hear or understand me. The different ways in which the Archmage and I used the Skill Ironwood Creation were vast, despite it being the same skill. I could still remember him saying he couldn't direct it, only create and feed, let it grow. That was why it took weeks for him to make the CCT, because he'd had to grow one section of wall at a time and just sort of hope it grew as he wanted to, removing the bits that didn't. Trial and error.

But I was a Blacksmith. I worked with metal. It was my domain. My life.

And now I had a Skill that created metal from nothing. It was hard to explain how big a deal that was. I could make fire with Stoke the Forge, metal with Ironwood Creation and could now shape it with Engraving and my usual forging process.

That made the Skill so much more versatile for me, enough that with a brief burst of concertation, a forked branch rumbled and cracked up from the ground, splaying left and right of my shoulders and pushing me up onto my feet. Staggering at the top, I held on and hooked my arm into the fork, instructing the Ironwood to thin and snap at the base, then stumbling forward using the branch as a crutch. Perhaps I could have even made it walk me if I had the stamina. I didn't.

[...]

"Ruby!"

The crutch was abandoned – and while I realised the mistake a second later and collapsed to one knee with a yelp, that didn't stop me crawling the rest of the way to her, dragging my leg behind. She was on her back, laid out flat with her hands at her side. I dragged myself past a body of black and white that looked the other way, puling up until I was leaning on my elbow next to her, the other arm thrown over her chest to grip her shoulder.

"Ruby," I gasped. "Can you hear me? Speak to me!"

Her face scrunched up, nose pinching. I could have cried in relief but held back as a single eye opened, flecks of silver visible through her thick, black lashes. Her lips parted, cracked and bloody with dirt smeared across them. Her voice was scratchy and thin, like reeds rattling.

"Is it over…? Did… Did I do it…?"

I looked back to the other body. Salem's head lay a few paces away from her body, thankfully facing the other way so I wouldn't have to see what expression she sported. The words that had once hovered over her head were gone, leaving her name and Class a mystery.

[...]

Gritting my teeth, I forced my feet under me. My Strength made lifting Ruby up a simple matter, though actually staying up after was anything but. I couldn't hope to carry her and instead supported her on my left, wrapping one arm under and over her shoulder and leaning her against my left side. The shift in balance almost cost me but I spread my right foot out to counter it, just about steadying her.

Which was typically when our reinforcements finally arrived, bursting through the ruined treeline on horse back and on foot, spilling from portals or otherwise rushing forward, spears, swords, maces and spells at the ready.

That was how they found us – both of us standing, though Ruby unconscious, Salem beheaded at our feet, stood in the centre of a glade brimming with silver scythes. Whether it was relief or awe that fuelled their shock didn't matter. Only that they stood still and stared at us, even as my legs wavered.

All except for Ren, bless him, who using his Passive stepped through the scythes and hopped a trench, hurrying over just in time to catch both Ruby and I as my legs gave way. He caught one of us in each arm, propping us up with my chest resting against his elbow, head and hair spilling over his shoulder.

"Thanks," I muttered, too tired to do anything more.

"What are friends for?" He adjusted us against him, allowing me to let go with neither me nor Ruby falling to the floor again. The Monk supported us both. "It's over, Jaune. Let's go home. I don't know about you, but I could use a long rest."

At that moment, nothing had ever sounded more wonderful.

[...]

I missed the mass funerals for all of those, much to my frustration. I didn't awake until two days after, with Pyrrha at my side to fill me in as she'd been doing for the last hour and a half. It was through her that I learned of everything that had happened.

—Forged Destiny [Book 9: Ch. 23]