[Katsuya Akiya (MC) POV]
I grabbed the heavy brass handles of the lecture hall doors and pulled them open.
The classroom was massive, featuring wide, sweeping tiers of stadium seating that curved around a central stage and a large chalkboard. A good portion of the first-year students were already here, chatting amongst themselves. We scrambled up the carpeted steps, finding an empty row near the middle. I slid into a seat, and Pyrrha immediately took the spot right next to me, her posture incredibly rigid as she tried very hard to pretend the whole 'disappointed I wasn't actually naked' incident hadn't just happened.
Ren and Nora filed in next to her. I leaned back in my chair, finally letting out a genuine sigh of relief as I caught my breath, content to just sit and wait for the orientation to officially begin.
———
[3rd Person POV]
Back in the bustling cafeteria, Weiss Schnee marched confidently toward her team's table near the windows, carefully balancing a small, porcelain cup of freshly brewed, high-end espresso. She had managed to locate a premium coffee machine near the staff lounge—a minor, necessary victory to tolerate the morning.
However, as she approached her designated table, her triumphant smirk vanished entirely.
Ruby, Yang, and Blake were still completely slumped over the table, dead to the world, with dramatic trails of blood leaking from their noses. The white-haired boy and his team were nowhere to be seen.
"What in the world...?" Weiss gasped, her eye twitching violently at the sheer indignity of the display. She slammed her espresso down on the table, rattling the saucer. "Hey! Wake up, you absolute dolts! What happened to you?!"
She reached out and shoved Yang's shoulder, but the blonde brawler merely groaned, her cheek squishing further against the wood.
Suddenly, Blake's amber eyes snapped open.
The Faunus sat up with a sharp, ragged gasp, her hand instantly flying to her face. She wiped the streak of blood from her upper lip, looking around the cafeteria in utter bewilderment. Her hidden ears twitched flat against her head under her bow as her brain frantically tried to reboot and process why she had passed out.
Then, her gaze landed on the large digital clock hanging over the cafeteria doors.
Her amber eyes blew wide in sheer horror.
"Get up!" Blake yelled, a sudden, panicked urgency entirely breaking through her usually stoic and quiet demeanor. She reached over, aggressively shaking both Yang and Ruby by the collars of their jackets, rattling them in their seats. "Wake up right now! The bell is about to ring! We are going to be late!"
———
[Katsuya Akiya (MC) POV]
I rested my chin in the palm of my hand, looking down at the front of the massive classroom. Professor Port, a robust, older man with a magnificent grey mustache, was currently standing behind his wooden podium, proudly organizing an array of axes and blunderbusses.
Next to me, Pyrrha shifted in her seat, clearing her throat quietly. She had finally managed to get her fierce blush under control, though she was still sitting incredibly straight and pointedly staring dead ahead at the chalkboard, keeping her hands neatly folded in her lap.
I was just about to lean over and ask her if she knew anything about Port's teaching style when a loud, frantic crash echoed through the room.
I turned in my seat, watching as Team RWBY practically tumbled through the heavy oak doors.
Ruby was leading the charge, looking completely out of breath. She was physically dragging Yang and Weiss by their sleeves, while Blake sprinted right on their heels.
They skidded to a halt at the top of the stadium stairs, all four of them panting heavily and looking entirely disheveled. Yang was still discreetly wiping her nose, and Weiss looked like she was about two seconds away from having a total aristocratic meltdown.
Down at the front of the hall, Professor Port paused. He set down a massive, double-bitted battleaxe he had been polishing and pulled a shiny gold pocket watch from his tweed vest, flipping it open with a sharp click. He checked the time, his bushy eyebrows raising slightly, before looking up at the four panting girls.
"Ah! Team RWBY, I presume?" Port boomed, his voice incredibly loud and jovial, echoing easily across the large room without a microphone. "An energetic entrance! And with a mere ten seconds to spare before the bell rings. Exceptional timing! I like that. Find your seats, ladies, find your seats!"
Ruby let out a loud, dramatic sigh of relief, slumping forward against Yang's shoulder.
The four of them quickly scrambled down the carpeted steps, sliding into an empty row of desks just a few tiers below where Pyrrha, Ren, Nora, and I were sitting. Weiss immediately spent a solid thirty seconds frantically smoothing out her skirt and fixing her ponytail, desperately trying to salvage her dignified image after practically sprinting across the campus.
Right on cue, the loud, shrill ringing of the academy bell echoed through the hall, signaling the official start of the period.
"Right then! Settling down, everyone, settling down," Professor Port announced, clapping his large, calloused hands together. He puffed his chest out proudly, resting his hands on his wide belt. "Welcome to Grimm Studies! I am Professor Peter Port. To you, I am your teacher, your mentor, and a seasoned Huntsman of the highest caliber. It is my solemn duty to ensure that when you step out into the unforgiving wilds of Remnant, you are prepared to face the monstrous hordes with courage, cunning, and most importantly... an unyielding spirit."
A few students sat up straighter, taking out their scrolls and notebooks. I clicked my pen, getting ready to take actual notes on monster weaknesses.
"Now, to truly understand the creatures of Grimm, one must not merely read about them in dusty, lifeless tomes," Port continued, his voice taking on a highly theatrical, storytelling cadence as he began to pace slowly back and forth across the front stage. "One must experience them! One must understand their primal, savage nature! Why, I vividly remember my very first encounter with an Alpha Beowolf. I was but a boy, barely a man, armed with nothing but my wits, my courage, and a remarkably sturdy piece of firewood..."
I paused, my pen hovering over the blank page of my notebook.
I glanced to my left. Pyrrha had her notebook open, looking perfectly attentive and polite, but even she looked a little confused by the sudden pivot from a lesson plan to an autobiography. Next to her, Nora was already starting to lean back in her chair, her eyes glazing over.
I let out a quiet, amused sigh, resting my chin back in the palm of my hand. It looked like 'Grimm Studies' was actually just going to be 'Storytime with Professor Port.'
"For what felt like hours, the beast and I wrestled in the unforgiving mud!" Professor Port bellowed, dramatically acting out the struggle by grappling with an invisible opponent near his podium. "Its jaws snapped mere inches from my face! But did I falter? I did not! For I possessed the fortitude of a true Huntsman!"
I gently tapped the back of my pen against my blank notebook.
It had been forty-five minutes. Forty-five actual, agonizing minutes. He hadn't mentioned a single tactical weakness, behavioral pattern, or anatomical flaw of any Grimm species. We were in a mandatory combat orientation class, and we were basically just listening to a theatrical audiobook of a man's exaggerated teenage glory days.
I let my gaze drift around the lecture hall to see how everyone else was handling it.
Down in the row ahead of us, Team RWBY was falling apart. Ruby had completely given up on consciousness; her head was buried in her arms on the desk, and a very soft, rhythmic snoring was drifting up from her hood. Yang was propping her head up with her fist, her lilac eyes totally glazed over as she stared blankly at a spot on the wall. Blake was sitting up straight, but she was reading a small paperback book she had discreetly slipped inside her binder.
The only one paying attention was Weiss.
The white-haired heiress was furiously scribbling in her notebook, her jaw clenched tight. I could practically see the stress radiating off her as she desperately tried to extract some kind of academic, testable value from a story about Port out-wrestling a Beowolf with a log.
I looked over at my own team.
Pyrrha was still maintaining her perfect, polite posture, but her eyes had a distant, thousand-yard stare. She was physically present, but her mind was clearly somewhere else. Nora was completely occupied, her tongue sticking out slightly in intense concentration as she successfully balanced three separate pencils on top of each other on her desk. Ren was sitting directly beside me, his back perfectly straight, his hands folded neatly, and his eyes wide open—but his breathing was so deep and rhythmic that I was ninety percent sure the ninja had figured out how to sleep with his eyes open.
Realizing no one was actually watching me, I casually raised my left hand, resting my elbow on the desk, and made a tiny, unnoticeable swiping gesture with my index finger.
The translucent black and white interface of the system flickered to life, hovering invisibly right over Port's podium.
I was directly at my status page. The notification bar at the top was still slowly ticking away.
> [SYSTEM UPDATE IN PROGRESS]
> Modifying 'Innocence' to Remnant-compliant 'Semblance'.
> Adding Anti-Grimm properties.
> Time Remaining: 2 Hours, 14 Minutes.
Just two more hours, I thought, letting out a quiet sigh. By lunchtime, I'll actually have a power set again.
"And so, with a mighty heave, I struck the beast upon its snout!" Port shouted, his sudden volume making me flinch and swipe the system away instantly. "The creature retreated, knowing it had met its match. And from that day forward, I learned that a true Huntsman must always be ready to face the darkness head-on!"
Port stopped pacing and turned to face the tiered seating, resting his hands proudly on his hips.
"But! Talk is cheap, and action is everything!" he declared, his mustache twitching with excitement. He gestured toward a large, heavy cage covered by a thick tarp in the corner of the classroom. The cage rattled ominously, a low, aggressive snorting sound echoing from within. "Who among you believes they have the heart, the skill, and the unyielding drive to demonstrate these principles right here, right now? Who will step forward and face a true creature of Grimm?!"
The classroom went dead silent. Nobody moved.
"I will!"
I blinked, looking down. Weiss had practically launched herself out of her seat. Her hand was raised high in the air, her face set in an expression of desperate, intense determination. She looked like she had something massive to prove, completely ignoring the startled groans of her teammates as she jolted them awake.
Port's face lit up with a massive grin. "Ah! Excellent! Step right up, Ms. Schnee! Let us see what you are truly made of!"
———
[Third Person POV]
Weiss had barely taken a single step out of her aisle before a loud, heavy smack echoed through the classroom.
"Objection!"
Yang had slammed both of her hands flat onto her desk, suddenly wide awake and practically vibrating with energy. She stood up, flashing a confident, challenging grin. "Sorry, princess, but listening to stories for an hour has me restless. I'd like to take a swing at whatever's in that cage."
"Ho ho!" Professor Port boomed, his bushy mustache twitching upward as he clapped his hands together, clearly absolutely loving the competitive atmosphere suddenly taking over his classroom. "Such fiery spirit! Such overwhelming passion! A true display of Huntsman drive!"
Weiss immediately whirled around, glaring daggers at her blonde teammate. "Excuse me? I distinctly raised my hand and volunteered first, Xiao Long. You can wait your turn."
"Oh, come on," Yang teased, crossing her arms and leaning her weight onto one leg. "You look like you're wound up tight enough to snap. Let a real brawler handle the heavy lifting, yeah?"
"I am perfectly capable—" Weiss started, her face flushing with aristocratic indignation.
"It will be me."
Weiss and Yang both stopped bickering, looking down in genuine surprise.
Blake, who had been quietly reading her book for the entire period, slowly and deliberately snapped the paperback shut.
She stood up from her desk, her amber eyes completely calm, completely serious, and locked entirely on the rattling cage at the front of the room.
She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a very quiet, barely audible murmur that didn't carry past their immediate desks. "I will be the one to fight. It is my duty to demonstrate my prowess and secure the valor for my mate."
Yang blinked, her confident smirk completely melting off her face as she leaned closer.
"Wait, what? Mate? What mate? Blake, what are you talking about?"
Weiss, having completely missed the quiet comment over the sound of her own indignant huffing, crossed her arms sharply. "I don't care what she's whispering about! I volunteered first, and I will be the one to fight!"
Up in the row ahead of them, Katsuya was completely oblivious to the quiet drama unfolding behind his back, his attention entirely focused on stopping Nora from accidentally toppling her massive, physics-defying tower of pencils onto the floor.
Blake didn't even look at Yang. She kept her gaze fixed stubbornly forward, her expression completely unreadable. She completely ignored the frantic, whispered questions from the blonde brawler, refusing to elaborate on her incredibly loaded declaration.
"Well, we have three eager volunteers and only one Boarbatusk!" Port laughed heartily, pointing to the rattling cage. "How shall we settle this display of warrior's pride?"
"Fine," Yang huffed, shaking her head to clear it as she rolled up her sleeves, a competitive glint returning to her eyes. "Old school rules. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner takes the Grimm."
Weiss scowled, looking deeply offended by the lack of sophistication, but raised her hand anyway. "Fine. But I am warning you, I have an impeccable sense of timing."
Blake silently raised her hand. Her amber eyes narrowed as she looked at her two teammates.
"I am going to throw scissors," Blake stated, her tone perfectly flat and matter-of-fact.
Yang and Weiss both paused. The gears visibly turned in their heads as they completely overthought the situation. They clearly assumed the quiet girl was bluffing—trying to play some kind of advanced psychological mind game. If she was openly declaring scissors, she was obviously lying and was actually going to throw the very thing that beats scissors: rock.
And the obvious counter to rock, was paper.
Yang smirked confidently. Weiss gave a haughty little sniff, both utterly convinced they had completely seen through their teammate's strategy.
"One, two, three, shoot!" Yang chanted.
Three hands shot out over the desks.
Yang threw paper...Weiss threw paper...
Blake threw scissors.
And, as usual... Blake Belladonna had won.
Blake made her way down the carpeted stairs, stepping calmly onto the wide stone floor of the central stage. She didn't look nervous, nor did she look particularly excited. Her face was a mask of cool, focused indifference as she reached behind her back and unclipped Gambol Shroud from its magnetic holster.
Professor Port grabbed his battleaxe, hooking the heavy blade under the padlock of the cage. "Are you ready, Ms. Belladonna?"
Blake simply nodded, sliding her thumb over the firing mechanism of her weapon.
Port yanked the axe back, shattering the lock and throwing the heavy tarp off. The doors burst open, and a massive, heavily armored Boarbatusk charged out into the open space. It let out an ear-piercing squeal, its beady red eyes locking instantly onto the girl standing across the stage. It scraped its hooves against the stone, tucked its head down, and launched itself forward like a spinning, serrated bowling ball.
Up in the stands, Weiss leaned forward, ready to criticize Blake's stance, while Yang watched with wide, anticipatory eyes.
Blake didn't even flinch.
She waited until the spinning Grimm was mere inches away, the violent wind of its rotation fluttering her black hair. With a sharp, precise movement, she dodged to the side. A shadowy, purple afterimage of herself was left behind, taking the full brunt of the Boarbatusk's charge.
The Grimm slammed into the clone, shattering it into a cloud of dark mist. The sudden lack of solid impact threw the creature completely off balance, causing it to skid clumsily across the stone and flip onto its back, exposing its soft, unarmored belly.
Before the Boarbatusk could even attempt to right itself, Blake was already there. She brought the katana blade of Gambol Shroud down in a swift, merciless arc, cleanly severing the Grimm's neck.
The creature dissolved into black smoke and red embers before its head even hit the floor. The entire fight had lasted less than ten seconds.
"Astounding!" Professor Port cheered, completely delighted by the brutal efficiency.
He clapped his hands together heavily. "A flawless display of agility and tactical misdirection! Well done, Ms. Belladonna! Truly a credit to your generation of Huntsmen!"
Blake smoothly sheathed her weapon, offering a small, polite nod to the professor. Without a single word of boasting or a glance toward her stunned teammates, she turned around and walked calmly back up the stairs, sliding right back into her seat and seamlessly opening her paperback book exactly where she had left off.
———
[Katsuya Akiya (MC) POV]
I let out a low whistle, genuinely impressed as I watched the dark-haired girl settle back into her row. She was fast. Really fast. And she didn't waste any energy on unnecessary flair.
Realizing Port was just going to launch right back into another long-winded story about his youth, I leaned my elbow on the desk, resting my head against my hand. I discreetly swiped my index finger through the air, pulling up the translucent system interface. I minimized the agonizingly slow 'Semblance Update' loading bar and tapped my way over to the interdimensional chat function.
I scrolled past a few of the other templates until I found the name I was looking for.
[Katsuya: Hey, Maka. You busy? I'm currently stuck in a mandatory combat lecture where the teacher isn't actually teaching combat. Just trying to stay awake.]
There was a brief pause, a little typing bubble appearing at the bottom of the screen before her response popped up.
[Maka Albarn: I'm in the DWMA library right now, actually. Soul is supposed to be studying with me, but he fell asleep on his textbook ten minutes ago. It's ridiculous. I'm going to have to hit him with a Maka Chop if he starts drooling on the pages.]
I chuckled quietly under my breath, making sure not to draw Pyrrha's attention.
[Katsuya: Classic Soul. Hey, random question. What's it actually like living in your world? Death City, the Academy, all of it. From the outside, it looks completely insane.]
[Maka Albarn: Insane is probably a good word for it! 😅 It's chaotic, honestly. The sky literally bleeds sometimes, and the moon is always grinning at you. But it's... home, you know? The DWMA is loud and crazy, and hunting Kishin eggs is dangerous, but the people here are good. Even the annoying ones. It's never boring, that's for sure.]
[Katsuya: Sounds like a rush. I've only been in Remnant for a few days, and my brain is still trying to process the Grimm and the whole flipped society thing.]
[Maka Albarn: You know, if the system ever allows for dimension hopping, or if you just get a free pass, I should show you around Death City! I can give you a proper tour of the Academy. Maybe we could grab a bite to eat at Deathbucks. As long as you don't mind walking up roughly a million stairs to get to the front doors.]
I smiled at the screen. That actually sounded really nice. A break from the heavy societal drama of Remnant to just hang out with a scythe-wielding honor student.
[Katsuya: I'm definitely down for that. But it's going to have to wait until later. I've got to finish up school here at Beacon first, and my schedule is already looking pretty packed.]
[Maka Albarn: Of course! Studying and training always have to come first. A good Meister—or Huntsman—needs a solid education! You focus on your classes, Katsuya. Death City isn't going anywhere. We'll hang out when you graduate!]
[Katsuya: Deal. Thanks, Maka. Talk to you later.]
I swiped the interface closed just as the incredibly loud, shrill academy bell finally rang, signaling the end of Port's seemingly endless class period.
I sat up, stretching my arms over my head and popping my shoulders. The rest of the day passed in a dizzying blur of mandatory syllabus readings, massive textbook distributions.
We sat through Professor Oobleck's history class, which consisted entirely of the green-haired man moving at actual mach speed while lecturing about the faunus rights revolution, stopping only occasionally to take a sip from a thermos that smelled aggressively like raw espresso. I managed to take about three pages of notes before my hand started cramping, eventually just giving up and letting Ren copy down the rest.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, I was practically buzzing with anticipation, and it wasn't because of Oobleck's contact-caffeine.
As we walked into our final period of the day, a small, translucent blue notification pinged in the corner of my vision.
> [SYSTEM UPDATE COMPLETE]
> Semblance: Clown Innocence successfully integrated and localized for Remnant physics.
> Anti-Grimm properties active.
> Combat restrictions lifted.
I let out a long, quiet breath, rolling my shoulders. The heavy, restrictive feeling that had been sitting in my chest all morning completely evaporated. I had my powers back. And just in time, too.
Our final class was Combat Protocol, held in a massive, state-of-the-art indoor amphitheater. The central floor was a raised, glowing combat arena surrounded by high-tech shielding, with stadium seating spiraling upward around it.
Standing in the center of the arena was Professor Glynda Goodwitch. She cut an incredibly imposing figure, tapping her riding crop lightly against her thigh as she surveyed the incoming first-year students with sharp, calculating green eyes. She practically radiated strict, no-nonsense authority.
"Settle down, class," Glynda instructed, her voice crisp and echoing perfectly through the acoustics of the room. The chatter died down instantly as we filed into the stands.
"Welcome to Combat Protocol. In this class, you will spar against your peers. I will observe, critique, and ensure you are utilizing your Aura and Semblances efficiently in a controlled environment. However, remember that this is a classroom, not a tavern brawl. I expect discipline."
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her gaze sweeping over the rows of students.
"Now," Glynda continued, pulling up a digital roster on her scroll. "Who would like to step forward for the first exhibition match of the year?"
"I'll go."
A heavy set of boots stomped down the carpeted stairs. Cardin Winchester, clad in his full set of bulky silver armor and carrying his massive, imposing mace, stepped confidently out onto the arena floor. He cracked his neck, an ugly, arrogant smirk plastered across his face a high contrast from the diva attitude this morning.
"Excellent, Mr. Winchester," Glynda nodded, making a quick note on her scroll. "And who would you like to request as your sparring partner? Or would you prefer I assign you one?"
Cardin didn't even hesitate. He turned his body, raised his heavy mace, and pointed the spiked head directly up into the stands.
Directly at me.
"Him," Cardin sneered, his voice loud enough for the entire class to hear. "The white-haired guy. He caught me off guard this morning when I wasn't looking, and I want to show the class what happens in a real fight."
The entire room instantly filled with quiet, dramatic murmurs. Next to me, Pyrrha immediately tensed up, while Nora let out an offended gasp. Down in the row ahead of us, Yang leaned forward, her eyes practically glowing with eager anticipation for the drama.
I just stared down at the massive, heavily armored guy pointing a lethal weapon at me over a bruised ego.
I let out a long, heavy, incredibly tired sigh.
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath.
"Katsuya, you do not have to accept," Pyrrha whispered urgently, leaning closer to me.
"He is clearly holding a grudge and possesses a significant weight advantage. It is unseemly for him to challenge you like this."
"It's fine, Pyrrha," I said, standing up from my seat and casually stretching my neck. "If I say no, he's just going to keep whining about it all semester. Better to just get it out of the system now."
I walked down the steps, completely ignoring the whispering students, and stepped onto the brightly lit arena floor. I didn't bother drawing a weapon. I didn't even drop into a combat stance. I just shoved my hands into my pockets and walked over to my designated side of the ring.
Glynda looked between the two of us, her sharp eyes lingering briefly on my relaxed, unarmed posture before she raised her riding crop.
"Very well. Mr. Winchester versus Mr. Akiya," Glynda announced, the large digital screens above the arena flashing to life, displaying our names and two full green Aura bars.
"Both combatants, ready your weapons and watch your Aura levels. The match will end when one combatant reaches the red zone, or by my discretion."
Cardin gripped his mace with both hands, dropping into a heavy, aggressive stance, his eyes burning with petty, vindictive fury.
I stood across from him, my expression completely deadpan.
"Begin!" Glynda's voice cut through the amphitheater, crisp and commanding.
Cardin didn't waste a single second. He let out a loud, aggressive roar and charged across the arena floor like a raging bull. He hoisted his massive mace, The Executioner, high over his head, using all of his momentum to bring it down in a crushing, highly telegraphed overhead strike.
My hand instinctively moved. With a brief flash of digital light, the sleek, gunmetal-grey gunblade materialized into my grip—the exact sword Lightning had personally handed over to me, casually mentioning she just didn't have a need for it anymore and figured I could put it to good use.
I didn't even shift my stance; I just brought the flat of the blade up horizontally, catching the heavy spiked head of the mace with a deafening CLANG that echoed through the entire room.
Cardin grunted, his boots skidding slightly on the floor as he tried to force the weapon down with all his body weight. I held it perfectly still with one arm.
I looked at the humming, hyper-vibrating edge of the Blazefire Saber, then looked at the arrogant bully sweating above me. Even with Remnant's Aura shielding him, a solid, unheld-back swing with this thing could easily bypass his defenses and literally chop him in half.
I really didn't want to deal with a murder charge on my very first day of high school.
With a flick of my wrist, I casually parried the mace to the side, throwing Cardin off balance and forcing him to stumble back a few feet. Before he could reset his stance, I willed the gunblade away, letting it dissolve into a burst of digital light that completely vanished from my hand.
Up in the stands, the murmurs instantly flared up again.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Cardin snapped, his face twisting into a furious, insulted scowl. He gripped his mace tighter. "You giving up already, you little freak?! Draw your weapon!"
"No," I sighed, rolling my left shoulder to loosen the joint. "I just realized that sword is way too lethal for a school spar. I'd rather not accidentally bisect you in front of the professor. Besides, I just got an update I've been dying to test out."
Cardin's face flushed a deep, violent red. "You arrogant little—I'm going to smash you to pieces!"
He roared again, pulling his mace back for a wide, devastating horizontal swing.
I stood my ground, raising my left arm. The system had perfectly localized the power, seamlessly blending the divine, anti-Akuma weapon into Remnant's localized 'Semblance' physics.
"Innocence," I muttered quietly, locking my eyes onto the charging bully. "Cross: Beta."
A blinding flash of brilliant light erupted from my left arm.
The fabric of my sleeve instantly tore away as the pure, localized energy violently took physical form. The light solidified, expanding outward into a massive, heavy white arm-cannon that completely encased my limb from the elbow down.
Cardin skidded to an absolute, terrified halt, his eyes blowing wide open as the sheer, overwhelming pressure of the weapon hit the arena air.
With a sharp, metallic shifting sound, the "fingers" of the massive gauntlet extended outward, instantly igniting into long, razor-sharp spikes of glowing, blade-like orange energy. Simultaneously, a core of intense, impossibly bright green energy flared to life at the center of the palm's muzzle, vibrating the air around me with a high-pitched, terrifying hum of destructive power.
I lowered my stance slightly, the heavy weight of the Beta form anchoring me to the floor. It drained a bit more energy right off the bat, but having both ranged and melee capabilities in one massive cannon was going to be well worth it. I aimed the glowing green muzzle directly at Cardin Winchester's chest
"Don't worry," I called out over the humming energy, my voice deadpan. "It's non-lethal."
Before he could even process the warning, I pulled the internal trigger.
A massive, concussive sphere of bright green energy erupted from the muzzle of the arm-cannon. The recoil jerked my shoulder back, digging my boots into the arena floor. The blast crossed the distance in a fraction of a second, slamming squarely into Cardin's chest plate.
BOOM.
The impact sounded like a bomb going off. Cardin's Aura instantly flared a bright, desperate purple as the kinetic force lifted his massive frame entirely off the ground. He flew backward through the air, completely out of control, before violently crashing into the arena's energetic shielding. He slid down the translucent barrier and crumpled onto the floor in a heap of groaning silver armor.
Up on the massive digital scoreboard, Cardin's green Aura bar instantly plummeted, stopping just a hair above the red zone.
The amphitheater was dead silent. I could practically feel the stunned stares of the entire freshman class burning into my back.
Down on the floor, Cardin let out a ragged, furious growl. He forced himself up onto his hands and knees, grabbing the handle of his mace. His pride was too bruised, too fragile to just accept the loss. With a desperate, feral yell, he pushed himself off the floor and charged at me one last time, swinging the heavy mace wildly without any form or technique.
I let out a quiet sigh.
"Innocence," I commanded, shifting my stance. "Cross: Alpha."
The massive arm-cannon immediately began to deconstruct. The glowing orange energy spikes retracted, and the heavy white armor shifted and folded in on itself with a loud, metallic clanking sound. In a matter of seconds, the bulky ranged weapon condensed into its base form: a large, fearsome, silver-and-black metallic claw, complete with razor-sharp talons and a glowing green cross embedded directly on the back of the hand.
I didn't have magical anime speed, but my natural physical strength combined with the sheer weight of the Alpha arm was more than enough.
I stepped smoothly into Cardin's wild swing. I raised my left arm, catching the heavy spiked head of The Executioner directly in the palm of my metallic claw. The impact sparked, but the indestructible material of the Innocence didn't even dent. Cardin's eyes widened in absolute shock as his full-strength strike was stopped dead in its tracks.
Before he could pull back, I closed my mechanical talons, gripping the head of the mace in a vice-like hold. I violently yanked the weapon downward, throwing his entire center of gravity completely off balance and pulling him directly toward me.
Drawing my right arm back, I delivered a punishing, perfectly grounded uppercut straight to his exposed jaw.
The punch connected with a loud, meaty crack. Cardin's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up into his skull. His remaining Aura flickered violently, flashing a bright, desperate purple before shattering completely with a sound like breaking glass.
Cardin collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, hitting the arena floor face-first and going completely still.
A loud, piercing buzzer echoed through the amphitheater. The digital screen above flashed red, confirming Cardin's Aura had dropped into the critical zone.
"Match!" Professor Glynda Goodwitch called out, her voice cutting sharply through the stunned silence. She lowered her riding crop, her green eyes fixed on me with a mixture of intense scrutiny and genuine surprise. "Winner: Katsuya Akiya."
I let out a slow breath, willing the energy of the Semblance to recede. The heavy, metallic claw dissolved into particles of green light, fading away completely and leaving my normal, human arm behind. I rolled my shoulder, feeling the slight drain on my stamina, but otherwise feeling completely fine.
I shoved my hands back into my pockets, completely ignoring the unconscious bully on the floor, and turned to walk calmly back to my teammates.
-----
The walk back to our assigned dorm room was loud, mostly because Nora was practically bouncing off the hallway walls with excitement.
"I can't believe you just punched him into next week!" Nora cheered, throwing a phantom uppercut at the air. "And that giant cannon thing? And the metal claw? Why didn't you tell us you had a giant robot arm, Katsuya? That's so entirely unfair!"
"It's just my Semblance," I lied smoothly, keeping my hands in my pockets as we walked. "It takes a lot of energy to manifest, so I don't use it unless I have to."
Ren offered a quiet, approving nod, while Pyrrha walked close beside me, looking genuinely impressed.
"Your Aura control is exceptional," Pyrrha noted, her eyes full of quiet respect. "The localized density required to manifest a physical construct of that caliber is incredibly advanced. Cardin completely underestimated you."
"Yeah, well, hopefully, that's the last time he tries to pick a fight," I sighed, swiping my keycard against the electronic lock of our dorm.
The door slid open, revealing the spacious, albeit slightly bare, room that we'd be sharing for the rest of the year. I walked in, tossing my school bag onto my designated bed.
"Alright, I need a minute to wash up," I told my team, grabbing a towel from my trunk. "I'll be out in a bit."
I slipped into the attached bathroom and locked the door behind me. I tossed the towel onto the sink, leaning against the counter as I immediately pulled up the system interface. I opened the chat log, tapping my fingers against the holographic keyboard.
[Katsuya: Hey, Maka. Classes are officially done for the day, and I survived. If you're still free, I can head over to your world now.
The response was almost instantaneous.]
[Maka Albarn: Perfect timing! Soul just woke up from his nap and we're heading out to grab some food. I'll send you the dimensional invite right now. See you soon!
A golden notification instantly popped up in the center of my vision.]
[SYSTEM ALERT]
User [Maka Albarn] has invited you to [World: Soul Eater].
Accept Dimensional Transfer? [Y/N]
I didn't click it just yet. If I was going to visit Death City—a place practically overflowing with crazy aesthetics, living weapons, and literal witches—I wasn't going to show up looking like a standard, boring Beacon Academy schoolboy in a wrinkled uniform. I wanted to make a good impression.
I opened my system inventory and scrolled through my stored items until I found the specific outfit bundle I was looking for.
With a quick tap, my Beacon uniform dissolved into digital light, instantly replaced by the new clothing. I looked up into the bathroom mirror, genuinely impressed by the quality.
Scathach had tailored this specific suit for me, and the Celtic queen definitely knew what she was doing. It was a flawless, incredibly sharp white suit jacket layered over a sleek, form-fitting black dress shirt. I adjusted the collar, then reached into my inventory for the finishing touches.
I pulled on a pair of dark, crimson-red leather gloves, flexing my fingers to get the fit right. Finally, I equipped the mask.
"Alright," I muttered to myself, adjusting the cuffs of the white jacket. "Let's do this."
I reached out and tapped the glowing golden notification.
[Dimensional Transfer: Accepted]
[Initiating sequence...]
The air in the small bathroom suddenly hummed with static electricity. The system interface dissolved into a brilliant, blinding column of white and blue light that completely enveloped me. The floor seemed to drop out from under my boots, the familiar sounds of Beacon Academy fading away into absolute silence as the teleportation sequence engaged, pulling me out of Remnant and directly into Maka's world.