AN: I choked a couple of times while writing this chapter. Not physically choking, mind you, but more "What the hell did I just write and did it make any fucking sense?" choking. You can blame my extreme lack of self confidence in myself and everything I do. Eventually I just decided to keep going so I could finally fucking publish it. God I hope the next chapter is easier than this one.

Also, holy fuck do I need better chapter names. If you feel like you can think of better ones, please tell me them. By Jones, please.

Chapter word count: 4,200 words. AN word count: Too much.

…

Chapter 8:
Mountain Mayhem

My breath came in sharp rasps as I pulled myself over the edge. I flopped onto the hard ground, chest rising and falling as I stared at the overcast sky above. The cool breeze that was blowing tried its hardest to cool me down, but I was covered in sweat and grime and the wind was fighting a losing fight. I could see storm clouds rolling in the distance and traveling in this direction.

Fuck, I hate climbing. I rolled over slightly and glanced over the edge, staring at the massive drop to the ground below. Why the hell would anything actually want to hide out this far up?

Actually, the sheer climb was probably the reason someone would hide this far up. Who the hell would want to climb up to get you? I most certainly wouldn't – the fact that I did notwithstanding. So, it was probably a pretty sound tactic that I don't think I would ever use because it would take too much effort.

Seriously, a thousand feet up is too damned much in my opinion. There better be something worth my time here or I was going to punch Tristian in the face – my elder by many years he may be, but I'm an upset teenager. I'm entitled to particular things.

… Temper tantrums. I'm entitled to temper tantrums. Not that I'm proud about it, but hey; teenager. It's one of those things that comes with the territory.

I huffed and drew myself to my feet, feeling like shit during the entire process. I hadn't been able to shower earlier and with all the new sweat and grime that I was coated in the old sweat and grime got even more horrifying to move in.

Getting away from Nora had been more difficult than it should have been. The girl had the strength of a Goliath and the attention span of a goldfish. She'd drug me along with her until we got to the small little apartment like building that she and Ren lived in – then she'd clung onto me and practically asked for my life story.

In the end I would up literally throwing Ren at her and running away.

No. No, I am not ashamed to admit that. I'm rather proud, actually. I heard Ren mutter words of grudging approval as he flew through the air at her.

I finally gathered myself and drew Crocea.

"You alright Lad?" The blade whispered into my thoughts and I cringed. Of course I couldn't keep anything from the blade – it was privy to my emotions and some of my thoughts that slipped through the surface. I could only contact him when I held him, but he had free rein to wander through my mind at all times.

"Just fine Crocea." I murmured, turning to look at the large, cavernous opening that was set into the mountainside before me. It was large – as in, 'Holy shit that's fuckhuge' large. I could probably fit a city block into the opening with a bit of room to spare.

"Lies. You are repressing your emotions again." Crocea said in a tone that sounded like the striking of blades. I flinched at the tone and responded instantly.

"I am not repressing my emotions." I shot back quickly and harshly, keeping my gaze on the cavern mouth. Stalactites and stalagmites were taking up a large portion of the entrance, making it so that the only ways into it were by going between the labyrinth of stone.

"Yes," Crocea ground out and I flinched again as the sound of steel sharpening rung loudly in my head. "You are. I have been with you long enough. It is simple for me to know when you are keeping yourself from thinking about such things. You go off on tangents and think of anything under Sol that can keep you distracted. It isn't healthy."

My jaw clenched together at his words. I did not do that.

"If you do not," The blade said, voice of a hammer pounding harshly on metal. "Then why do your thoughts currently consist of nonsense?"

My hand jolted from the blade's handle as I forcefully stopped the mellow sound of the violin that was playing on repeat in my head. Crocea was wrong, and I was going to show him that. My breathing evened out as I tried to calm my thoughts – tried to make them nothing, empty. Focused.

I probably don't need to say that I failed. The moment the music went away my emotions hit me – a tide of anger, of fear and hatred and more slamming into the bulwark that kept them from being expressed physically. My hands clenched as I shut my eyes tightly, trying to reign everything back under control.

Again; trying. Crocea was right. He almost always was. He was old, he was wise and I knew that I kept my feelings locked away – my mind would play music or jump around like a demented, hyperactive bunny in an attempt to keep myself distracted and unable to even have a fleeting thought of anything that could cause a breakdown. I kept all the distracting emotions locked away – all the emotions that could cause problems for me.

Attraction? Locked behind a gate. Fear? Usually trapped in a vault. Anger? Stuck on a loose chain.

The few moments where my barriers ever go down do I truly feel. I could feel the apprehension I held for the situation slide through my thoughts like a scalpel. My fear of facing off against Fenrir hit like a truck going sixty and my fear of failing was even worse. My anger at the beast and myself seemed to have a life all of its own, straining the chain that held it back to its breaking point.

And after the first few came the ones that were locked further back. Sadness drew itself out from the darkest corner of my mind and slinked its way into my thoughts, slowly morphing into heavy depression that slid past my barriers. The agony of losing family and never truly grieving came flooding up and struck like blades, piercing my thoughts so harshly that I almost felt physical pain. The stress and emotions I'd been bottling up for the past few years hit me all at once.

A few tears leaked through my eyes before I forcefully wrenched everything back. I stuffed it behind the barriers and thought of the loudest, heaviest music that I knew off and grasped hold of any thought that came through in an effort to drag my thought process away from everything else.

It didn't work. The emotions swept past my barriers again like a tidal wave breaking apart a sand castle. More tears made their way down my face and I wasn't quite sure if they were from sadness or anger or fear or anxiety.

In the end, I just didn't know what to feel. I never really did. I bottled everything up so badly that when it came out it was more like an explosion than anything else – an explosion that would probably leave me with a hole in my head if I didn't push it back again.

So, I used the last option available to me. The one I usually used.

I Defied. I Defied my emotions. Defied my fear and anger and my sadness and my hate. Defied everything that was threatening to push me over the edge and cut them short, dulling their edge and shoved them further back than before. I threw them down a long dark hallway and shut and locked the door. I shored up my defenses; I took my little sandcastle and rebuilt it out of sandstone and clay, built little walls around it in a futile attempt to hold back the tide.

It wouldn't remain that way for long. Eventually the walls would crumble, the stone would weaken and the tide would come back with renewed strength and destroy that little sandcastle once again.

But… for now it was enough. I swiped at my face and wiped away the tears that remained. I took a deep, raspy breath and held it for a few moments before releasing it. The emotions may be gone, locked away, but the aftereffects still remained.

My hands shook as I picked Crocea up from where he lie upon the ground.

"I apologize." I said, a slight quiver in my voice. "I was wrong. Again. I wanted to deny it – I always want to deny it. I'm just a little –" I took a shuddering breath and when my voice next came out it was in a whisper. "… Sorry."

"It is fine." The blade said softly. "It is not healthy, but you have no other way of coping. I recommend you get help, though."

I grinned at that – a shaky grin, doubtlessly, but a grin nonetheless. I most certainly needed to see about getting help.

I probably wasn't going to, though. I like to think that I know myself well enough to know that I'll probably die first – either by going out with a bang during a fight or going out with the kind of bang that came from suicide.

"Ready?" I asked, moving forwards, mind forcefully calmed for the time being.

"As always."

We plunged into the darkness.

…

For the first few minutes I felt like an idiot. The darkness was all encompassing, eating any and all natural light that shone in from the outside.

Because of that I continuously found myself with odd footing and, on the rare occasion, walked straight into something that I just flat out couldn't see.

I almost found myself having a conniption. I finally gave up on any pretense of sneaking through the area and flooded Crocea with some Aura, causing the blade to light up like a torch in the darkness. If there was anything in here it would probably see me coming from a mile away.

Hell, that might even be literal considering how large this thing was. I rapped Crocea against stone a little while ago and didn't hear the first echo until six seconds later. The last one came a bit after thirteen.

In other words; the cavern was big. The ceiling overhead was probably high enough for a Goliath to fit in here – though first it would need to figure out how to get up here.

I shook the thought from my head and moved on, swinging around a stalagmite and moving on in a random direction. This place was a natural maze – the stalactites and 'mites were, for the most part, connected together and created large pillars that blocked my sight. The wind was circling through the place, the air cool and carrying the faintest smell of fresh rain. The storm was obviously getting close.

I wandered for a few more minutes and finally decided that it would be pointless to continue. I rested my back on one of the natural pillars and heaved sigh. It would be an amazingly large waste of time if I continued doing this.

So, with slight reluctance, my hand unzipped one of the pouches at my side and pulled out a small crystal of silvery green Dust. I gazed at the small crystal for a few moments – just moved it around on my palm and observing the light of my Aura being reflected off of it.

And then I smashed it into my chest and was quickly acquainted with pain.

The feeling of razorblades swept across my entire body; my muscles felt like they were being sliced into fine bits, my blood vessels screamed like someone had given each one a million papercuts and my bones felt like they were being sliced down to the marrow in far too many places to count. I felt the phantom pains of my organs being shredded ribbons – heart, liver, lungs, and more.

My soul cried and my mind begged as they felt the razor winds rip through them. My Aura shimmered to the surface, silvery-green and floating off of me like a gentle breeze –

And then it ended as abruptly as it began. The pain fizzled from my mind like I'd never experienced it – like I hadn't just felt my entire being be shredded apart into individual atoms.

I finally came back to myself and huffed out a breath.

Goddamn do I hate Wind Dust. The air currents that I could currently control kicked up around me, dragging my hair and clothing up and making them flutter.

Wind Dust was an extremely valuable tool, yeah, but using it in this manner was ridiculous. Gravity Dust pretty much makes you feel like you're being compressed into something like a gravitational singularity. Fire Dust makes you feel like you're being burned to cinders – and then those cinders are burnt to ash that is then burnt into even more ash, but Wind Dust?

Wind Dust usually feels like you're being shredded into individual atoms which are then sliced into nothing. Sometimes this is followed with a feeling of being reduced to even more nothing if the Dust is strong enough.

In summary: It fucking sucks.

I let out a harsh breath as I used the currents to caress my own skin, if only to give me something to focus on rather than the rapidly retreating feeling of pain. Finally, after a few more seconds, the pain fully disappeared from my mind and I let out a sigh of relief.

Again: Wind Dust fucking sucks.

I let out another breath and mentally reached out for the air currents around me and began to… well, it get a feel for them, I guess. See, trying to control wind is pretty difficult – ridiculously so, actually, because you can't control it. You can give it some nudges and pull on it a bit, maybe even ask it to help you, but Wind just isn't an element that can normally be controlled. I mean, if you have a strong enough will you can, theoretically, beat it down and subjugate it, but there's no real reason to.

The wind doesn't like to be controlled, yes, but it'll still listen to suggestions. If you, say, ask it to move in a certain location, or help lift yourself into the air, it'll generally do so. Using the Dust Crystal for the element might be an utter bitch, but the element itself is surprisingly… nice, I guess is the word.

I closed my eyes and mentally connected myself to the air currents – a process which allowed me to feel everything. I mean that literally; by connecting myself to the wind I was able to sense anything that was touched by even the slightest breeze. And on a day like today, where there was a nice, strong breeze out and a storm brewing?

There was a lot of air to get a feel for. My conscious mind slipped from my body and joined with the air flow – and for a brief moment, I was the air and I was the wind. I spanned continents and oceans – a constant presence that shaped the world. I gave respite on hot sunny days and I gave destruction in the form of natural disasters. I shaped the land with my currents – eroding and weathering away at stone and other materials. I gave life by transporting seeds across great distances and helped insects to pollinate fauna.

And, on a much smaller but no less awe-inspiring scale, I was everywhere in the cave system. I could probably navigate the labyrinth with my eyes closed and have perfect footing – going only off of the air currents that were flowing over the stone.

And I used that to scrounge the cavern for the Beowolves.

It didn't take long. I opened my eyes again and spun around, taking off as fast as I could, moving between the pillars with the kind of grace that came from long practice – or, in this case, from knowing exactly where everything was and the best place to place my foot.

I moved forwards for a few minutes before gradually slowing down. My brow furrowed as I channeled some of the Dust that flowed through my blood asked it to form a small platform beneath my feet, allowing me to climb onto it and ascend into the air. I continued to do so, raising myself into the air higher and higher with each step I took until I finally walked around one last pillar and found myself staring into the 'Wolves den.

I was standing thirty or so feet in the air and looking down on a goddamn army of Beowolves. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of the fuckers were sprawled out beneath me, silent as death. Most were sleeping, other pawing around so quietly that I could barely even hear a thing, even when using the wind as my ears. I'd already sheathed Crocea earlier, having no reason to use the blade as a light source when the wind was a much better thing to use.

Fenrir wasn't here – if he was, I would have felt him. Legendary Grimm are easy to spot; they mark the land with their very presence. They carried such levels of negative emotion that you can physically feel if one is near.

So, Fenrir wasn't near. That was bad – but it was also good. That meant that I could destroy these monsters with only the slightest chance of actually getting caught up in a fight.

I wasn't about to give them the choice of trying to fight me, obviously, which meant that I had to take them out at the same time.

Luckily, I came prepared. I reached into my pouch once again and withdrew a large glass bottle that was filled with multiple colors of Dust – and by large, I mean Mason Jar sized.

Hunters used Dust in many different ways – usually to complement their fighting style. Maybe they just used Fire Dust as a way to create, well, fire when they were out on long missions in the Wilds. Maybe they had Earth Dust imbued into their clothing to make it stronger and more resilient, or a canteen that had Ice Dust mixed with the metal during the manufacturing process to keep drinks cold.

In any case, not many people actually used it entirely for combat purposes. Maybe they'll use it to light their blade on fire, or maybe they'll control it to make a wall out of stone – but they never really used it, not as well as they could.

Ozpin once told me that we, as a people, used to use Dust for level mountains and scorch the earth itself. That we could create tornadoes, control monsoons and create earthquakes.

Over time, though, as we walled ourselves into our newly formed kingdoms and our settlements, as we pushed the Grimm back ever so much and carved a place for ourselves on the planet, we forgot the ways we once used it.

Some didn't forget, though. They passed the knowledge to their descendants and those descendants passed it down further.

Glynda was once such person who knew how to use Dust correctly. And, because of that, I did as well. The vial in my hands, though?

A grin started to form on my lips.

It was an example of how you use Dust incorrectly. I almost laughed – I only managed to keep it to myself because it would alert the Beowolves to their imminent demise.

Ten different kinds of Dust all packed and mixed inside of a bottle. A bottle that was completely airtight.

A bottle that was mostly made of Aura infused glass, barely being held back from igniting the Dust beneath.

A bottle that would shatter if enough force was applied to it. And by enough force, I obviously mean that it could fall twenty feet and explode.

I'd made it right after I got away from Nora this morning. It was a quick job – some of the calculations were off, some more Dust was added than it should be and it might make a really big boom or a really, really big boom.

Considering the first time I used one of these it left a crater four hundred feet wide and sixty deep…

Yeah. I stared at it for a moment, wondering if I really should use it and risk bringing the mountain down.

And then I shrugged my shoulder and chucked it straight up into the air. There, no time to second guess it.

Grabbing ahold of the wind I had myself pulled backwards towards the nearest exit, trying my damnedest to get the fuck out of dodge as fast as humanly possible. I didn't want to be inside of this place when that vial hit the ground.

I was nowhere near the exit when it exploded.

I felt it before I heard it – a dull thud that managed to rattle my bones as I flew. What I heard were the sounds of flames roaring, of ice shattering, of wind blowing and lighting erupting. The entire cavern, hell, the entire mountain seemed to shake. The stone cracked and crumbled apart, raining down from the ceiling and falling from the walls.

I slammed into – and through – a pillar as the wind was forcefully ejected from the cavern. And then I crashed through another one, and then another, and another after that. The stone floor beneath me cracked and splintered, shattering and joining with the gale. I could hear the cavern behind me collapsing upon itself, breaking and crumbling apart because of the detonation.

Flames roared, following its fuel source out of the cave. A grimace formed on my face as I ripped the top off of a stalagmite with my body and caught a glimpse of the encroaching flames – flames that were of so many different elements and shades of color to even be considered possible.

But it was all made out of Dust, and Dust doesn't give a fuck about things such as impossible and possible.

I covered my face with my arms as the firestorm slammed into me like a physical entity – speeding up my exit so much that I turned anything I slammed into to powder. I could feel my Aura draining away with each hit and each lick of flame that attempted to scorch my person – felt the physical shell that covered my person slowly chipping and withering away.

It wasn't low yet – probably wasn't even past the eighty percent mark, to be honest – but if I had to take much more of this and it would drop lower than I would be comfortable with.

And then I slammed into a wall – though the wall – and was flying into open air, able to see the sky and the storm clouds that hovered there. Could feel the moisture that was in the air on my scorching skin.

I could see the flames rip their way through the hole that I'd just made in the mountain – could see them shoot out of any other location around it as well, blasting out in such jets that it was more like a flamethrower than anything. I could see dozens, maybe even hundreds of flame trails blast their way through the sky – from the largest of caverns to the smallest of cracks, the flames burned.

I caught myself on the air, watching as the mountain shifted. It broke apart and began to crumble, causing landslides and shooting debris into the air. The mountain top caved in, dropping down into the destroyed cavern below – and then that collapsed again onto itself before collapsing again, most likely falling into more and more cave systems embedded throughout it. Dust and debris were billowing out from the wreckage, making the very air a hazard to breath.

I asked and the wind pulled me back while simultaneously blew forwards, shooting the dust filled air away from the valley. I kept up the gale for a few minutes, watching as the mountain continued to rumble and break upon itself before it finally began settling, leaving behind a large expanse of loose rock and dirt. The Wind Dust in my system was burning itself out and I had to lower myself to the ground far below.

I landed and felt a tremor run through the ground from a minor earthquake and continued to feel the aftershocks for some time.

In front of me, where there used to be a mountain, there was now a glorified molehill.

I… really shouldn't have used that Dust. What would I have done if it had gone off on my person?

Well, I probably would have done my damnedest to Defy, but...

I fell flat on my ass as the level of what I just did hit me.

I just destroyed a fucking mountain. I could still feel the aftershocks from the damn thing – aftershocks that I was pretty sure were being felt in Vale. The earthquakes probably weren't stronger than magnitude fours or fives, but still.

Mountain. I destroyed a fucking. Mountain.

Jesus Christ Glynda was going to have my ass when I got back to Beacon.

…

AN: Combat? Not really. Some emotional stuff, more exposition, and then the destruction of an entire mountain?

Yes. As you can probably see, Dust in this story is going to be something that Jaune actively relies on. As such, it's going to be deadly. A Fire Dust crystal may make a large fireball in cannon, but it'll erupt into a goddamn inferno the size of a city block here. So, ten different types of powdered Dust – any of which are highly volatile by themselves – mixed into a jar and going off all at the same time?

… Things go boom. Really badly.

The emotional scene near the beginning is there because… Well, Jaune hasn't really been showing his emotions much. A Hunter isn't really supposed to let negative emotions affect them – it attracts Grimm. Jaune doesn't have much control over his emotions, so he naturally shuts them out and keeps his mind busy on anything but those emotions.

He naturally Defies them; and, because of that, they build up. They get stronger and harder to push back every time they come up. The only reason he used the Dust here was because some of his emotions were still dulled – namely, his fear and apprehension. If either had been working correctly, he wouldn't have done what he did because he wouldn't want to deal with the consequences.

Next chapter will consist of… something. I'm done promising things. I've learned that I'm a lying liar who lies, has lied and won't stop lying. Hope for Fenrir everyone.

Sorry for the long AN – might change this story to an M rating as well. Leave thoughts in Reviews, please.