Damn you plot bunny!

Hi guys, new story popped. Hope this is good. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY or Naruto. They belong to the owners of each respective franchise.

Chapter 1: A Whirlpool of Emotions

Weiss Schnee, Heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, took a deep breath. She exhaled once her lungs filled to capacity. She repeated the action. Again. Again. Again. Her shoulders were rigid; spine straight as a pole; fingers fidgety to the point of losing any semblance of a grip on either hand. She needed to ease up. Terribly so. She looked at her mirror.

Her white hair was combed flawlessly. No stray strand out of place. Her off-centered ponytail was well cared for and was decorated with her tiny tiara. Her pale, porcelain skin was not marred with any dirt or any other messes. Her piercing snowy blue eyes quivered ever so slightly as she adjusted her collared bolero jacket. Its pale blue design transitioned to a more vibrant deep version at the sleeve while sprinkled with small cuts that revealed the inner layer of white underneath the petal-like sleeves. A splash of red was done for the insides of that jacket. Her dress was done in the same fashion as her jacket, pale blue at the torso, then a more vibrant one at the skirt's edge. However, a blake lace was sewn at the valley of her dress, which hid her nonexistent cleavage. A white sash was tied around her slender waist to add more to her extravagantly designed dress.

Why was she tense? Her future for the next four years depended on her being at her utmost. Nothing less than that was acceptable for what was to come.

Her skin appeared to lack any elasticity despite looking so smooth. The cold air of her white, blue-tinted grandiosely-sized and elegant room made the tiniest of hairs bristle. Comfortable the room may be, it was just unbearably cold to those not used to the climate of the continent. She was used to this cold, but not enough to handle along with her masked fear of the trial that laid ahead of her later during the day.

"Lady Weiss." An elderly man in a black butler's suit with a slightly large belly called from the door behind her. "You're terribly tense!" He observed with panic. He rushed to her side whilst easily balancing a platter holding a teapot as well as a teacup already filled with the Heiress's morning tea. He set down the tea set onto the small glass table beside her, and inspected the young lady under his charge.

"Klein, I'm fine." Weiss said softly. "I'm just…relaxing."

"If that's what ye call 'relaxin',' then I'm on vacation, lassie! You need to calm down." Klein, the elderly butler, countered in less than polite fashion.

Weiss, knowing the change of tone and personality, turned to her cake butler. "Klein!" She said his name in surprise.

"What? I'm not afraid to point out the truth." The butler said with obvious bluntness in his voice.

Weiss shook her head. She was familiar with this type of behavior. Whenever there was something her butler disliked, the rude one came out to talk. However, it wasn't always true considering the main personality had a semblance of control -in terms of keeping a proper decorum in his role as a servant to House Schnee. But Klein had no qualms expressing himself to her.

Weiss looked towards her bed, where her weapon case sat untouched. "Klein…it's just-"

"There's a lot of pressure, I already know." Klein responded calmly, his personality returning to the original. He knew full well the Heiress's trial to be allowed the chance to be a Huntress-in-training. He took the teacup on the platter, and gave it to Weiss. "Facing off against one of House Schnee's automatons cannot be an easy task even if it's one of the older generation -one that guarded this house in your grandfather's younger years."

"So you do understand my plight." Weiss closed her eyes as she took to her breathing exercises again. Her body relaxed slightly in the presence of her amicable butler.

"I do understand. How can I call myself a butler if I cannot see what pains you, if I cannot hear your cries, if I cannot sense your discomfort?" Klein asked the second daughter of Jacques and Stella Schnee. "I've heard the stories of the automatons. Their role and their notoriety as ruthless machines meant to protect House Schnee, its members and employees aren't to be dismissed."

Weiss sighed while turning to the window that showed the blinding white peaks of the northern mountain chain Blackstone. "Ruthless in that they do not know the meaning of holding back. Ruthless against those not identified to be related to the Schnees. And ruthless in that they are nigh unstoppable if given access to its armaments and power limiters." She crossed her arms. "Knowing my father, he just might make those stories come true all in favor of keeping here in Mantle under his watchful eyes."

"Do not presume such things, Milady." Klein reasoned. "I'm sure that even he is not that dishonorable. To assume he won't give you a fighting chance when you've excelled in your training with your mentors, and being highly praised for such skill…" He shook his head. "Why that's just pessimistic."

"Half of me wants to believe you, Klein." Weiss admitted. "But my father already allowed one child out of his clutches. I assume he won't be so lax this time around." Her hands held a tight grip around her arms. "My fate for the next four years will be sealed today."

Klein lowered his head for but a moment. "If that is what you think, then shall I prepare your most potent of powders, Milady?" He asked politely. "While I'm sure the ones you have available in your case is of considerable quality, I do have a stock of the finest ready to use for your disposal."

Weiss moved her head to take a glance at her servant. "And what do you have in stock, if you don't mind me asking?"

Klein lowered himself on one knee. "I have the finest of Burn, Freeze, Gust, Shock, and Gravity. There are others, but I think what I've listed would be something more pragmatic for your upcoming battle. Ah, but there is one cartridge that is a mixture. Blaze Dust."

Weiss hummed lowly. "Are all that you mentioned equipped onto speed loaders?"

"All of them are, Milady." Klein responded promptly.

Weiss' shoulders relaxed. "Thank you, Klein. See to it that your stock is loaded into the case. I want every edge I can get against the automaton." She moved to the seat next to the small glass table. "While you do that, I'll be enjoying the tea you made, which before I forget, thank you for this as well."

The man returned to a standing position, and bowed. "Your gratitude does not need to be expressed. I am your butler; it is my duty that you are given the best for you to be at ease with your life." He paused. "And if my master wishes for the best of her ammunition or my brew, I will gladly give it!" The butler turned around on the balls of his feet, and left the room in a pace and posture fit for a butler in a hurry.

Weiss smiled at the man who she thought of as family. While the stressing of roles was there, Weiss could not condemn the butler for his bouts of personality switches or his adamancy to give her the best -even if it goes on the fine line between what is legal or illegal. He was there for her, and was what she appreciated.

She leaned back on her chair after retrieving her teacup of her butler's own specialty brew. She gingerly took a sip at a time, savoring the rich flavor that hinted milk for an aftertaste. "Fantastic brew as usual, Klein." She muttered before she gently returned the teacup back onto the platter. She stood up, and moved to her bed.

The weapon case that was on her bed laid neatly over her stuffy comforter. The gunmetal gray case was fashioned with the Schnee emblem at its center for all to see. To open the case, she put her thumbs where the latches of a normal case were supposed to be. A fingerprint scanner was equipped on those locations for security of her weapon and its ammunition. With the definite sound of a click, she opened the case.

Myrtenaster, a gift from her grandfather's friend, glinted under the harsh rays that reflected off the northern peaks. The blade could be crudely described as a silver wand with a cup at the end. But to the maker of the fine blade, it was a thin, polished steel blade fitted with a revolver mechanism to use and eject Dust. A weapon that befit an elegant warrior Heiress of a Dust company.

She picked up the weapon by both the handle and the slender blade. She smiled at its elegant frame. "How do you do, partner?" She asked playfully. She knew her weapon could not talk. But being with this weapon for her duration of training all those years ago, it was a friend to her. Her trusty partner in combat. From her weapon case, a fine napkin was pulled out. The Heiress polished the already well-maintained weapon. "I'll be putting you through much stress today." She whispered to the blade. "Let's show you your strength, eh?"

Weiss gave the weapon a few swift test swings and thrusts to test her speed and precision. When she found her miniature performance satisfactory, she took a breath. There was one thing she needed to try.

Her Semblance. Her hereditary Semblance to summon.

A feat she hasn't succeed at all during her training years before. But…there was a small hope. She visited her grandfather a month ago in his own estate, a house separate to the main house hidden in the northern peaks. It was quite the visit. Despite being elderly, he only appeared a tad weaker than what stories told otherwise. He taught her many defensive techniques meant for her slim build during her visit. He looked awkward performing them due to his old age and overall rigidness in his body, but Weiss understood the motions. In her opinion, the most valuable lesson he gave her was a tiny mantra to help her focus on summoning.

A mantra that even her grandfather used when he first discovered the ability to summon.

She was forever grateful, but to this day -even after daily attempts, Weiss failed to summon something. But she still wanted to try just one time before the trial. Just one attempt. She pointed Myrtenaster to the floor in front of her, and focused her Aura. The emblem of the Schnees emerged on the floor. The glyph, a snowflake in shape, bore swords at cardinal points. It was different, she noted. But like any snowflake, none are ever alike.

Weiss recited the mantra her grandfather taught her in her own head. In her deep focus, her Aura manifested while the glyph gradually spun faster in a clockwise manner. The more she used Aura, the faster the rotation. Recite, focus, repeat. Recite, focus, repeat.

From the sky, fall and scatter like alabaster petals

Scatter and reform

Let your shape not be defined uniformly,

Let your fractals grow,

Deviate, rebel, become unique

Forged by my gentle hands of ice

Amidst the scathing blades of wind,

Among the charring heat of lightning;

Reform into what I desire,

Into what I've slain,

Into what shall be my servant

Unto Death.

She imagined the form of a Beowulf, one that she killed during one of her training exercises. She made sure to take in the image of it. All its features were noted; its mask with the design that came along with it, its size, its fiercely sharp nails, and right down to the last spine that ran along its back. But even with all that focus, the strain was the main obstacle.

Weiss hated the strain. She was meant for finesse in combat, not meant for heavy-hitting! When she felt that painful tug on her Aura, she immediately stopped.

That was her problem. She never attempted to exceed the limits. She was satisfied in her own strength that she unconsciously felt no need to summon while her physical excuse was that it was a taxing process. Yes, it was taxing, but even her grandfather said that repeated practice while performing her utmost was key. It was a tiny detail that the Heiress never took to heart.

So when the glyph disappeared, Weiss never felt too disappointed. She thought it was an expected result. She thought that her efforts were wasted. That maybe the summoning skill wasn't passed down to her. This and any other reason was made to dampen the true impact of her failure.

It wasn't even called failure in her mind. It was, "Another setback." Yes. A setback is what she called it despite not even truly making the effort. To outside perspectives, her 'effort' was like picking up a pencil, but never writing anything down on paper. "Maybe someday." She said.

A knock on her door alerted her to a visitor. "Lady Schnee? I have the Dust."

Weiss said, "Come in, Klein." Her right hand motioned the butler to enter. "Come. Let's get this case fitted with everything I need."

"As you wish, Milady."

Two young men stood facing each other. Both bore haggard, ragged, and driven expressions on their face while their bodies appeared shaky and fatigued. Both pushed each other to the utmost limit they possessed. But they cared little for that. They needed to use more -of which they had none to speak of. All the strength they had was lost. Thrown against each other in the hopes of gaining victory over the other.

However, one desired death for his opponent. He desired death so that he was alone. So that none could oppose him. So that everyone else was unified against a common enemy -himself. The opponent before him was his final obstacle to that goal.

That one bore hair as black as a raven's. His hair was done to allow the bangs to run along the sides of his face while the rest was combed backward, ending in spikes at the back. Though with how intense the battle was earlier, that bore little resemblance to the description; his hair was a mess with barely anything left untouched. His face was pale from lack of rest and blood loss from previous battles up to now. His black eyes wavering in focus. His collared shirt was dusty, stretched, torn minimally at the edges. His pants were very much in the same condition. His sandals tried their best to stay on.

The other bore hair that was golden blond fashioned into spikes. A metal-plated headband was worn over his forehead as both a piece of his uniform and as a means to hold together his wild hair. His blue eyes were heavy, while his face showed a visible loss of tint to his skin tone. Yes, he too showed signs of heavy fatigue. His black jacket that sported orange at his sides was unzipped -the tiny metal contraption meant to keep it together was long gone. His pants were equally as dusty, torn, and used like his opponent. This one's sandals were still firmly fit to his feet.

The one that bore raven hair outstretched his left hand. From that hand, a small crackle of electricity emerged. Not even a minute later, a full crackle of lightning erupted as that energy enveloped his hand. The crackle turned into a thousand chirping birds. "Get it through your thick skull." He snarled. "Just die!" He pushed forward.

Something struck his chin, sending his head skywards. He got a moment to glance at it. A foot struck him. That very same foot came down like an axe, and pinned him onto the muddy ground, splashing dirt and muddy water up into the air from the impact. His attack that covered his left hand exploded the area of ground it made contact with.

The blond pounced on his downed opponent, but was kicked on the chest. The impact made the blond explode into white smoke. Another blond appeared to his right, and the downed fighter responded by throwing shuriken at him. That one too disappeared in a puff of white smoke. The young man rolled backwards to recover when the blond that was in front of him before was just inches away from punching him.

"Get it through your thick skull that I'm not giving up on you!" He shouted as his fist connected with his opponent's cheek. The force of the punch was enough to send the raven-haired young man skidding back a few meters.

The two paused once more to catch a breath. The one with black hair talked first. "You still have enough to make clones?"

"Right back at ya." The blond one started to counter. "You still got enough to make that blasted jutsu and use your dojutsus."

The black-haired one sighed. "Not any longer if we keep this up without one of us losing within the allotted time."

The blond one snorted. "You and I both know that it won't matter. Even running on fumes, we're still going to beat each other into the ground."

The pair weren't amused by the situation at all. This was a battle of attrition with will as the driving force. Neither desired to submit to the other; moreover, neither were willing to stop even when they were at their weakest. A clash of two individual powers equal in strength and versatility with wills immeasurable to those of others. Stubborn was what they were.

The two launched themselves at each other. Both launched attacks that carried all of their weight in them. There was no need to dodge, to block, to parry -just brute force. One punched, the other returned it with equal fervor. One kicked, the other followed suit with a stronger blow. The sounds of crunched flesh and cracked bones echoed in the gorge that was once a waterfall. The two fought through the pain. They numbed their minds to such a feeling and anything else, like dirt, that may have struck them at some point. They used their brain power solely on their opponent -on each other. All they desired was to put the other down with maximum damage inflicted.

Nerves fired off like lightning. They bypassed the nerves that desired to relay pain, and just passed on message after message to their muscles. Every movement, every contraction of muscle, every cell expending energy, everything was commanded by their brains to give their all.

The blond sent a right to his opponent's chin. The other smashed his forehead to return fire; he continued by driving his left fist into the blond's ribs then smashing his right knee into the blond's abdomen. The blond keeled over, but that didn't deter him from fighting. He sent his head upwards, smashing his head back onto the raven-haired young man's chin once more. He sent his right fist to his opponent's head. He missed. The blond swung his arm back; elbow led the charge to hit the other's cheek.

The close proximity, their fatigue, and foot placement were factors that led to the both of them tumbling onto their sides onto the muddy ground. Even in their disadvantageous position, the two fought for dominance in hopes of forcing the other to submit in one's eyes or die in another's. They flailed about with bone-breaking fists, joints, and feet -still pushing through their limits because their opponent refused to stop. The never-ending loop of reasons to why they refused to stop grew with each attack that successfully landed on each other.

The raven-haired young man succeeded in the struggle. His weight pinned down his already weak opponent. He lifted his right arm while his other grasped the blond's neck in a tight grip. With a hammering force, repeated punches battered the blond's face. Each punch delivered was given with a small grunt of frustration anger while the blond's head steadily went lower and lower into the hard ground.

One could surmise that the blond's face caved in on one side; however, the blond's endurance and durability were extraordinary for a human. He was infamous for it along with his unpredictability. What would have killed a normal man already was but simple scratches and insignificant swelling on his dirtied visage. His left eye was forced to close somewhat from some of the hits, but other than that, none were too grave an injury.

The blond made his move when his opponent telegraphed his next punch. A sickening crunch was heard after the punch struck at the other's ribs. A follow up occurred with the next one aimed for the face. The blond watched with satisfaction that his attack had an effect. He noted as well that the grip on his neck was loosened. He contracted the muscles at his core, and lifted himself up near instantly to savagely smash his head against the other. His victim was vulnerable, and instead of taking the advantage for himself, he kicked his opponent away.

The raven-haired young man stood up groggily as he spat out blood. The blond did much of the same. The two stared at each other; one with a hateful glare, the other a look of concern.

"What does it take to make you die, Naruto?!" The furious combatant shouted. "How many bones must I break? How many organs must I render useless? How long must I fight you to put an end to this?" He asked the blond with hatred dripping out due to frustration.

The blond, Naruto, shouted back, "Everything, Sasuke! It takes your everything!" He wiped the blood off his chin, and patted his face before he used his hands as supports placed on his knees. He shook his head. "Every bone you break, I'll do the same to you. Every organ that you stop, I'll just heal from with time. And I can keep going for a while." He pounded a fist on his chest. "I'll take all of it and more if you want." He replied with a challenging grin.

Sasuke uttered a guttural roar of anger before he charged at Naruto. His left hand, charged with electricity, was like a lance that aimed for the blond's heart. To counter this attack, Naruto charged forward as well with his right hand forming a sphere of energy that contorted in a myriad of directions, shredding past each other with the speed and power of a gale. The two stretched out their arms to make a clash, but their energies were too depleted to even reach each other.

But their momentum was not lost. In order to compensate for the loss, they used their momentum to deck each other in the face with a cross counter.

Weiss hefted her case as Klein accompanied her to the ballroom. The icy white walls reflected light too well, reflecting rays towards the ceiling like some false light source. The carpeted floor muffled their footsteps, hiding their slow pace from anybody that may have listened for their arrival. As they trudged through the massive, empty white hallways, Weiss felt her footsteps become heavy and sluggish. It wasn't because she was tired or anything of the sort, just a case of the jitters.

Klein noticed this, and expressed his faith in her. "Stand stall and proud, Lady Weiss. You have trained for this moment. Let nothing, not your father or one of this House's feared automatons restrain you from what you desire."

Weiss found the words encouraging however slight it was. Her loose grasp on her case became firm; her footsteps gained a normal rhythm. The slouch she thought she didn't have was corrected. She smiled. "Thank you, Klein."

The man sighed. "I said before that your gratitude need not be expressed."

"I know. And that is why I must -for you to acknowledge it." Weiss explained. The pair continued their trek towards the ballroom without little delay and obstacles in their path. Any servants that they may have met, stood by a wall and bowed to the Heiress.

The ballroom door was grand in both size and its aesthetics. It was made from marble. Its frame was shaped like an arch. Gold trims ran a few inches away from the edges before they converged towards the middle, where the Schnee crest sat on both parts of the door. Stained glass windows were put in place within the spaces inside the snowflakes to give it a splash of color in the white-themed estate. Around the crests were circles lined with Dust.

Yes, the door was mechanical. For what reason?

Precaution, of course.

Klein opened the door leading into the ballroom by using the hand scanner off to the side. The door opened much like a normal double door. As it opened, one could hear the hydraulics pumping to heft the marble door out of the way. Weiss and her butler entered the grand room to see an audience before them.

One was a sharply dressed man in a white jacket, navy blue collared shirt with a white tie fitted under the collar, and white slacks. The blue dress shoes were one of the few aside from the shirt to betray the white theme he had. His slicked-back gray hair and his thick mustache were his more defining facial features while his height, his slim frame, and his straight and broad shoulders others. His eyes held an almost perpetual glare with how narrow they always were. Weiss noted that at this moment, the man hadn't betrayed that trend.

Weiss curtsied. Klein bowed. "Father/ Master Jacques." The pair respectively greeted the man of the house.

"Weiss. It's not too late to turn around now." The elder Schnee spoke with a buttery tone. "I don't mind it at all if you choose to change your mind. Our automatons are quite formidable, as you know."

Weiss resisted to give a glare. She insisted on a calm and collected approach with her father. "I will not cower away from this trial father." She spoke confidently as she lowered her case onto the floor. "It's against my honor as a Schnee to run from adversity. And that is why I must continue with the trial -one that you demanded I have as a prerequisite to learn outside the Kingdom."

"'Demand' is such a harsh word, dear sister." Said the second person that would spectate on Weiss' trial.

Weiss looked to the one who called her 'Sister.' It was an equally well-dressed young man with white hair. But instead of a suit, he wore a off-purple or a navy blue vest over a white collared short-sleeved shirt. And instead of white slacks like the father wore, he wore a contrasting black pair -same for his shoes. His physique was similar to his fathers, but lacked the height.

She asked, "And what would you call it, Whitley?"

"A request." The youngest sibling replied. "Demand implies our father is a tyrant." Weiss hid anything on her face that may have shown that she agreed with the description. "I, for one, believe he's just doing whatever it takes to benefit the family."

Weiss crossed her arms. "And how does me accepting the offer to turn around benefit me, brother?"

Whitley shrugged his shoulders as if the answer to that was obvious. "You could have the best mentors money could buy. Access to knowledge and skill past your own current level would be as easy with the swipe of a lien card." He said gleefully. "You would be in a Kingdom familiar to you, where the local dangers are known. If you were in foreign land, there's no telling what you might face." Weiss found it cute her brother tried to act concerned. It was delivered a bit too overbearingly for both his or her tastes, and they knew it. "You could be among the elite that Atlas academy has to offer if you play your cards right. If you join Beacon, you'd be at a disadvantage when it comes to your position in the prestigious academy."

Weiss closed her eyes. "While your points are valid, Whitley, I find them insufficient." She bent forward to open the case, and grabbed her rapier.

"Are you saying this Kingdom can't offer what Vale can?" Jacques asked his second daughter. "Is Atlas that terrible a choice, Weiss?"

"No."

"Then why?"

Weiss pointed her rapier at her father. "Because I don't want to be stuck in one place while I'm still young!" She responded firmly. "Sitting around in your office, looking at numbers, playing your political games to further your own interests…" Weiss' grip on her weapon tightened. "I want to see the world for myself, not as you do! Before I'm given the role as the head of the company, I wish to stake claim on the life I own!"

But that was what she wanted to express. It was but a thought that lingered in her head. Freedom to speak that much about what's bottled up in her heart was a poison for her.

A poison that would only end in her being cooped up in this lifeless castle with nothing to her benefit other than her father's.

She outwardly responded with silence.

Jacques frowned imperceptibly. "Very well. I shall respect your choice, Weiss." He paused to let his words sink in. "But keep in mind that-"

"-I'll be sure to keep the Schnee family name proud with my achievements, father." Weiss reassured by interrupting. "But can we move things along now? I'm sure all this idle talk must be grating for a businessman like yourself."

Jacques resisted a growl due to the impudence his daughter showed. But he knew better than to lash out at such a critical point. If he did, it would further drive his daughter away. Further desire to stay away from him -out of his control. He hated things out of his control.

He compared the situation to catching fish. Too much tension, and the fish would get away. Give the line some slack, and then reel it in. Rinse and repeat. It was obvious who was the fisherman and who was the fish in this. And the man planned to keep it that way in order to keep himself relevant to her.

He wouldn't forget the veiled disrespect anytime soon. And he had the perfect way to do it. "Klein, may I have the honor of activating one of the automatons?" Klein seemed alarmed. Jacques knew what Klein thought just by the expression on the butler's face. The elder Schnee motioned the butler to respond. "Well? May I?"

Klein found it difficult to refuse even if he knew the man's intention by being the one to choose which automaton to activate. Even if he was to choose, Klein would have been conflicted between the three that resided in the ballroom for they were the automatons that were notorious for being the strongest out of all of them. He sighed inwardly; Weiss was correct in thinking that Jacques would stoop to lows to keep her in Atlas. Klein lowered his head -almost appearing to bow to the man. "Choice is yours, Master Jacques." Klein responded in a neutrally professional tone.

"Thank you, Klein." The man was all too happy to get the freedom to choose Weiss' failure. He turned to face the rest of the ballroom. With a commanding voice, he shouted, "Automaton unit: Lancelot, training mode level five!"

As soon as his voice was analyzed, recognized, and interpreted for its contents, one of the automatons whirred to life. Of the three that stood in the ballroom, the one with the more intimidating armor moved. From the viewpoint of the people down by the entrance, it moved from its post on the left before it headed towards the center of the ballroom. It stretched out its right hand, and the floor in front of it moved. Panel after panel sunk below the marble tiles that revealed an opening.

From the hole, a golden pointed pommel jutted out slightly. Then, the sound of whirring gears echoed in the expansive room. The sword raised from the ground dramatically, revealing the slender and solid royal blue handle, to the golden wide circular cross guard, and finally to the long blade connected to it. The more intricate details were on the blade itself. A cross-like indentation and design was forged on the gold blade collar below the guard. The gold fuller ran through most of the length of the blade. It was wide and bore a seemingly nonsensical piece of writing near the collar. The shimmering silver blade itself, while standard for a longsword was elegant and regal in its well-maintained appearance. Its with was expanded slightly near the tip. Before it tapered off to a point, a small notch on either side was present. The automaton grabbed the sword, and let the tiles return to their normal place before it gently placed the tip of the sword back onto the floor.

Weiss was left speechless as she looked at her opponent.

Lancelot bore the colors of stark silver and gold, much like the colors of its blade. Its helmet was fashioned like to appear layered. The metal that covered its inner frame was three layers of it, with the top claiming most of the area of the face and forehead. A single slit with cross-like designs at both ends was made for the eyes of the automaton. And atop the helmet, a long blue tail. Its intimidating armor was due to its proportion and shape. The pauldrons were large, appearing like bulking shoulders of a reptile with the repeated layers. And at the edge of those layers, a gold trim ran. Its breastplate was made to look like its ribs were armor as bulging pieces of metal encompassed the sides unlike the usual one prominent piece that covered the torso. The center of that breastplate was layered as well, keeping in like with the reptilian pattern of layering -this time appear as the underbelly of some dragon. The rerebrace, vambrace, and gauntlets as a set appeared to have a false, seamless orientation to their design. No one could see the opening for the joints. The faulds, or the skirt plates that protected the thighs were simple in design, but effectively placed. The kneepads and greaves were more intricate as the former was gold in the shape of a dragon's crest while the latter was white with gold trims. The sabatons were generalized, but a small gold piece covered the ankle joints, and a pair of gold heels lifted the automaton's height by a third of a meter.

"Well, Weiss? Are you ready to face one of Arthur's Knights?" Jacques mockingly asked his daughter. "If you are to enroll to Beacon, this is the obstacle in your path."

Weiss inspected the automaton before her, searching for weaknesses in its form. "So it seems, father." She took the Dust-loaded speed loaders in the case, and placed them in between her fingers. "A very dangerous obstacle in my path." She nodded slightly. Almost amused by the situation.

The stress and nervousness that plagued her earlier was gone. She was at ease. For her opponent was her favorite automaton. Ever since she planted the idea in herself that she wanted to learn how to fight, she used the immovable construct as an inspiration. Romantic dreams of duels with the titanic sentinel invaded her nights constantly. Each time she trained, her mentors would berate her for her childish eagerness. But she could not help it. She used Lancelot's glorious stories of defending her home as a drive to realize what it takes to fight with everything in hand. In turn, her method of fighting was revolved around utilizing her skills at the most opportune moments to bring about a devastating blow each time. For years, she trained to follow in the expectations of a lifeless sentinel.

Now…to see it move for the first time in her life was a dream come true.

'I finally get to fight you, Lancelot.' Weiss thought. 'Have you been watching my efforts from your perch? I hope you have. Because I'll be defeating you in a few minutes.' Her confidence exuded exponentially, and it showed in her face.

Jacques was surprised this reaction coming from his daughter. Whitley was curious, but nonetheless indifferent about how the results of this trial went. Klein found the change in his charge's demeanor to be a relief. Though the thoughts the three males had were different, they all agreed that the battle to come may be a spectacle.

Weiss walked towards the gigantic opponent, leaving the black tiles to step onto white ones. The change in the color was important, for inside the border of the black tiles was the battlefield. Anything in the area of the black tiles was a safe zone, protected by Dust in its raw form: transparent energy. But that wasn't the only place protected by Dust. The very floor of the battlefield and the ceiling were protected. Any combatant inside this field was essentially trapped in an invisible box.

Weiss made the first move. She dashed forward, and aimed for the automaton's ankles. The automaton responded by dragging its sword across the floor to intercept her approach. It did it in such a speed that Weiss had nowhere to got but meet it. The moment Weiss made contact with the blade, the automaton scooped her up like dirt dug up by a shovel. She was sent to the ceiling in no time. Thankfully, she landed feet first, the force kept there there for but a few seconds. She looked at her blade, set at Shock Dust.

The automaton raised its blade to the height of the ballroom's ceiling. Yes, the ballroom was quite expansive, four floors were dedicated to give room for dancers below and spectators above. The sword it slung over its shoulders barely scratched the top of the battlefield as it's massive edge headed for Weiss.

Weiss placed a glyph on the ceiling that she stood on to keep her there. Well…not exactly at the same spot…but just within the area of the glyph. The experience of being upside down was nauseating. Even more so when gravity acted against her. She felt the blood rush to her head, of which the capability to think was weakened. Her stomach crawled up her throat, and the acids inside the digestive organ felt like a flooding river ready to burst out of a dam. She stepped to her right to allow the blade to miss her entirely. As soon as that happened, she changed the glyph's properties. Instead of keeping her in place, she made it so that she was propelled towards the automaton after she leaped.

Her approach was designed to aim for its neck, where it was least protected. She pulled a trigger on Myrtenaster, and watched her blade sparkle with golden electricity. The way her trigger worked was dependent on how long she pulled. Here, Weiss was intent on using all of the Dust in that cartridge to extend the reach until the actual blade's length was negligible. But that was for naught as the giant mass hid behind the width of its sword. Electricity met the blade, showering the area in blinding sparks much like a fireworks show. A show that came closer and closer to her.

Weiss felt the cold steel bash against her whole body just before she was sent flying to the invisible wall back first. The impact made her drop her handful of speed loaders full of Dust essential to the defeat of the automaton all over the floor. She slid down the wall as her titanic opponent sent the point of its sword at her. She was quick to recover. She looked at her Shock Dust cartridge in Myrtenaster.

Shock Dust empty.

Not a moment later, she stood up ready to act against the incoming attack. Just before it struck the floor, she jumped atop the large blade, and ran across its length with the help of her glyph. Her revolver was set to the Gravity Dust. In doing so, the released a flurry of thrusts at the sword she skated on each injection of the substance made the weapon heavier until the automaton fought against the weight of the planet's gravity times seven to keep it up. The free hand approached her during her ascent. She switched it up; on her revolver was a mixture -Gust and Burn. The mixture of these two was dubbed as Blaze Dust. She set her blade's point against the offending appendage, and watched as a firestorm exploded from the tip, and repelled the grabbing hand.

She remained on the steady blade. Her perch was a reasonable spot to be on. She had the range to keep it at bay, while also unconsciously keeping an eye on the occupied sword prioritized the free hand because it was the only thing that could stop her until the automaton decided the sword was useless weight. Freeze Dust was equipped next for the purpose of hindering the movement of the useable arm. She fired the Dust from the tip of her rapier. The Dust flew into through the air, the sparkling blue streaks of light trailed a path to the wrist and elbows of the automaton's left arm. Chunks of ice instantly froze on contact, and crept around the area of impact. Though it didn't last long. A simple movement of the joints crushed the ice. She insisted on using all of that particular Dust. Instead of bolts, a stream of the Dust froze the length of the forearm in a gigantic block of ice twice the size of the humongous arm.

Freeze Dust empty.

The automaton's sword hand creaked as it attempted to lift the sword up. The hydraulics in the inner frame of the mechanical sentinel pumped as hard as they could. Weiss knew the Gravity Dust wouldn't last long. Not to something of this size. If she wanted to end it, she had to do it now. She decided to move right as the automaton's left arm was above her. The arm made impact with the sword, exploding the ice that encompassed the limb. Weiss had to cover her face to prevent any stray chunk from hitting her into a dazed state. However, she forgot to realize something. The force of the hit made the automaton drop the blade. The speed of the drop was near instantaneous, which led the Heiress to be momentarily airborne.

She was instantly backhanded before she could even make the effort to craft a glyph meant to repel an attack. Once again, she flew towards the wall. But this time, she was prepared. Weiss looked at her rapier. 'Gust Dust set.' She thought as the green colored Dust locked in place. She set the tip behind her, and released a blast of wind to counter the force of the blow that sent her flying. Soon after, she flew towards the knight as speeds that sent her flying away.

Gust Dust empty.

Her destination was Lancelot's breastplate. If she could immobilize the torso, it was victory. She focused on that possibility. It was her only possible way of winning. The condition of victory for fighting against an automaton was to bring them to their knees. Burn or Blaze Dust would be difficult to knock a well-balanced automaton. A breeze from Gust Dust was useless. Freeze was for immobilization. Shock was to penetrate the armor. Gravity was her only was to make it submit. As she got closer, she found hope in her idea. But she never saw the left hand that came up from below to parry her approach.

She flew in another direction again. Sent to a wall, she slid down its surface weak and barely moving. She was stuck in a knelt position, her rapier was used as a cane. But she could not rise, no matter how hard she exerted herself. Her shoulders hefted the world. Her feet were drowning in cement. Her arms were dragged down by thoughts of doubt. This time, there was no more retaliation from herself. She was sure of it. All because she sprinkled the remaining Gravity Dust on herself. She rendered herself immobile.

Gravity Dust was solely used by the Helios class battleships of the Atlesian air fleet. They were used as optional ammunition for the six main batteries installed upon the ship. They were used as such to send down hostile airships by the force of gravity. It was hardly meant for close combat, and she knew the risks. Most considered using that particular Dust as suicidal. Though 'gamblers' are what most people actually said in public. And here she was, trapped in her own attack. "D-Darn it..." She choked out like a growl. Her grip on her rapier tightened in response to her frustration.

Lancelot the automaton loomed over her paralyzed self. It watched her curiously, wondering what to do because its opponent still had Aura to speak of, but unable to fight. It reached for its sword, and stabbed it on the floor off to its right. It looked down, asking, "Do you still wish to fight?" Its visor zoomed in on the form of the Heiress as it analyzed for possible responses. It looked at the subtle twitches of effort to move her body. It looked at the sheer anger that was on her face as she tried to move. "Struggle detected. Resuming combat mode." The stabbed sword's tip was lifted just enough so that it could point to the immobile Heiress.

'No. No! I refuse!' Weiss shouted in her head as she watched the gleaming blade. 'I will prevail! I won't surrender when I have freedom at the tip of my fingers.' Her knuckles became snow white with how tight her grip on her weapon became. 'It'll take your everything to take away my life, Lancelot!' A glyph was created in front of her. Much like before, the design was the same. The magical circle spun faster, faster, and faster until its details were a blur -unrecognizable.

A golden sphere of light erupted just above the glyph, blinding anyone in the room the moment it expanded. The moment the room returned into a state of normalcy, Lancelot had successfully launched an attack. But it missed. And a new addition in the battlefield was revealed leaning against the blade.

A heavily wounded young man. Or was he a Faunus?

Weiss looked at the blond before her, topless for reasons that suggested she summoned him out of a deadly battle. His pants were now knee-length shorts torn to pieces at the edge. His whiskered face was swollen and bloody at the edge of his lips as well as from the nostrils. The spiky hair was a mess -further than what it normally looked due to battle. What was shocking was the lack of arms. His arms weren't there. It looked like they were blown off the joints on his shoulders. And his bare chest lacked an epidermis or even the subsequent layers underneath the most superficial one. He had significant bleeding, and it showed as he tarnished the magnificent blade behind him.

Weiss concluded that she summoned a person that was in the middle of an explosion. She summoned him at the delicate moment between suffering the pain of his wounds and instant death.

Everyone was speechless. But to the summoner, she was in a state of utter confusion. She summoned, yes. Great on her part. But this was not the Schnee's way of summoning. The Schnee never summoned sentient lifeforms. And they only summoned the forms of the enemies they defeated. So why did a ragged, bloody, and essentially dying human being/ Faunus emerge from her summoning glyph?

She then got it through her confused head that summoned a dead man -both figuratively and literally into battle.

The blond spoke. "Eh...? Ima...doko ni i-iru no?" Weiss surmised it was a question regarding where he was. His eyes scanned his left and right until he faced her. "Ah! Yuki hime, daijōbudesuka?!" Weiss was confused further. She did not understand him. The best she could do was analyze his reactions. And his face was quite expressive in doing so. She found his next sentence to be another question aimed at her. She watched his blue eyes fill with worry for who he stared at. Worry for her. Not himself.

"G-Get out of he-reee!" She shouted at him. "You'll die!" Unfortunately the Gravity Dust still held some form of power over her. But it was weakening for sure.

He looked at her puzzlingly before he looked at what was behind him. "Ah!" He was clearly surprised. He snapped his head towards her. "Chottomattekudasai, Yuki hime. Ore wa kore o shiori shimasu!"

Naruto found himself in a bind. "Kurama, you got any Chakra in you for a fight like this?"

"I find it strange that you're not wondering how we got here." There was a voice that answered inside the young man's head. "But yes, I've gathered enough to make Charka arms, use a few justus, and or one large rasengan."

"Gonna need you to be a bit more liberal with Chakra use, Kurama. Especially for the rasengan." Naruto replied. "We got ourselves something that has the size of Susanoo, and I think something along the defensive capabilities of it.

"If you're doing all of that, then I'll be forced to go to sleep for a few days." Kurama warned. "I might not be able to get you out of a bind in this unfamiliar place."

"No worries. Something tells me we're going to stay alive."

"Be sure to give whatever that thing is some hell then, Naruto. And make sure that girl in front of you is safe while you do it!"

"Gotcha, partner!"

Weiss looked at the young man. His expressions minutely changed. An internal conversation. It was a few seconds, but it was enough to tell her that he had already made a move. He turned around, and lifted his right foot, which glowed a fiery golden orange. He kicked the blade, and sent Lancelot's blade flying back. Had the automaton not kept a firm grip, it would have been sent to the other side of the room. He jumped up to reach Lancelot's head. Much like his foot, the entirety of his head was engulfed in that golden orange Aura just before he made contact with Lancelot's helmet. The impact sent the automaton stumbling backwards. He looked satisfied with the attack, though her failed to notice the following move, and was blindsided when his airborne self was struck by the flat end of the gigantic blade the moment the automaton turned for a full 360.

He was sent towards the direction of the ballroom entrance in the same fashion as she did. He would have struck the invisible wall like a starfish had he not lost his arms prior to this battle; Weiss hated the image that she planted in her head.

But then a terrifying thought occurred. 'That glow around him...that was Aura, right?' She asked herself. 'Then...why has he lost his limbs if he still has Aura to use?!' She watched the young man/Faunus slide down to the floor. He was on his knees slumped over most likely due to pain. Lancelot hefted its sword above its head just before it swung the blade down on the young wounded individual.

But it never connected. Two arms stopped it just before it could cleave his body into two. Weiss was baffled as she did a double take. Two arms made from the same color of Aura that she saw him use moments ago. The only difference was that his whole body was coated in it! And to make things even more confusing, it took the form of a human-sized nine-tailed fox! He set the blade aside, then jumped with alarming takeoff speed. His left arm struck the automaton's head. The other followed. The cannon-like impacts made visible effects to the giant knight's stance, which consisted to stumbling backwards. Gravity took hold of the Aura-cladded summon. But even that didn't stop it from its offensive. The tails wrapped around Lancelot's shoulders, and pulled himself towards its chest to kick it back with both of its feet. The automaton skidded backwards quite a ways from it. It was nearly inconceivable that someone had the brute force to push a Schnee automaton so far back.

Weiss looked at the bestial young man. It seems his cloak of Aura retreated except for his arms. He opened his right hand, and from it a small sphere in the same color as his Aura. Slowly, it grew in size. From a golf ball, to tennis ball, to basketball, it grew continuously until it was roughly the same size -if not larger than Lancelot. And that sphere wasn't just a sphere of Aura. It was a grinder. Weiss noted that he contorted his Aura so much that it looked like anything that would touch the darn thing would be shredded.

Heck the very air around it bent to the various rotations of the sphere!

But from where Weiss sat, he simply dropped it from his 'hold' whilst his right foot was coated in his Aura once more. Foot made contact with the sphere. The sphere flew towards the automaton while it carved its way through the air, and left a vacuum that trailed behind it. Weiss herself felt the air thinning out as soon as the sphere went past her to strike Lancelot dead on. It was blocked with the sword, but little by little the automaton was pushed back while its grip on the sword weakened from the bashing and grinding force coming from the attack. Like a wall, Lancelot stood its ground. But like any wall, Lancelot's guard was torn down, and with it gone, the attack's full force struck it. The air drilled into Lancelot while the Aura sphere bashed and ground itself onto its armor. Not long after, the sphere exploded, sending the titanic knight to the other side of the ballroom.

It didn't get back up.

Weiss looked back to the summoned individual, who was now in front of her. He still bled. A lot. But he looked happy to help. He said to her, in that strange, yet somewhat familiar language, "Anata wa ima anzendesu, Yuki hime." He smiled at her just before he collapse, and landed on his side.

Weiss didn't understand him at all. She didn't understand why he fought for her in his condition. She didn't understand how he got himself so wounded. She didn't understand why he was summoned. She didn't understand a lot of things regarding this young man/Faunus, but she knew that his words were meant to be of comfort.

And she wanted to make sure that she was able to reciprocate that to him the next time he woke up. She wanted to save him just like he saved her. With a powerful voice, one she was known for in Atlas and throughout Remnant, she shouted, "Klein, call an ambulance now!"

And how is this new story? Was it any good? I won't say anything so far about this story. It's a pilot chapter, but I put in the effort. I hoped you enjoyed reading this, and hopefully this will be a successful idea.

So review, follow, favorite, I don't care.

This is Azure signing off.