It was evening in the small countryside town of Arisan, the sun just setting on the hustle and bustle of an overcrowded military base nestled into the town's western hills. In just a few short hours ten thousand Hunters and Huntresses will lift off along with the entire combined fleet of the four kingdoms to finally bring peace to the world. Or, if they fail, the world's destruction.

Jaune Arc was not a highly complex man.

By all accounts, he was rather simple. He liked to work on his family farm and go fishing in the small river just a few miles away from town. He liked playing with his sisters even though most of the time it ended up with copious amounts of cross-dressing and braided hair (He's a warrior's wolf tail kinda Jaune). He's oblivious to anything female and even more awkward talking to them. That was of course until the soul of King Aurum Mors awaked within his very soul.

How she was awakened was a strange phenomenon in of itself as, in his head at least, that was the day that Jaune Arc died.

He was stood atop Beacon Tower in the remnants of Ozpin's office. In front of him his first love, Pyrrha Nikos, lay beheaded and maimed. The pristine skin of the once stunning woman reduced to charred coal by the perso- no. Monster that stood in sick satisfaction. A coalescence of sick and twisted lust for power that all chivalrous Knights of Mors existed to purge from the face of Remnant.

On her death bed, an old cleric bound Aurum's soul to Crocea Mors so she would only awake to the world with her full power when a wielder that had a soul stronger than any else in Remnant's history met his destiny. When Aurum felt the initial pain of loss so deep and intense it felt as if being gutted by a curved talon, her eyes opened to the inky black of Jaune's conscience. Blackened by the power of such negative emotions.

In this sea of black stood a single flickering knight, his head bowed and shattered blade of Milo lay before him. Aurum approached slowly as the sound of moving chainmail filled the dark chamber. The lone knight did not react as she emerged into his line of sight nor when she stood wholly in front of him. His eyes remained firmly at her greaves.

"Have you come to take my soul?" He asked in a tortured voice, black ichor of pure negative emotion pouring from his teeth and staining his blood and dirt-encrusted hoodie.

"No Jaune," Aurum uttered, saddened by the sight of a once pure soul brighter than the sun itself corrupted by the pain brought on by her dark machinations, "You still have a life to live and a vow to uphold," Croeca's ancient form drew forth with a rasp of holy steel, reverberating like a gunshot in the dark.

"I've come to purify you"

His chuckle was hollow and lifeless, "I always knew I wouldn't get to see graduation," He got onto his knees, "Crocea?," Aurum hummed in acknowledgment, "Make sure he's a person she would be proud of. Make sure he's a hero."

"That is a request I can grant Jaune Arc."

He looked up and into Aurum's eyes, the corruption was almost complete. His left eye as a total inky black and his right was a twisting swirl of red black and electric blue. His last shred of humanity buying her time, "Will it hurt?"

"To an excruciating degree. A portion of your soul will be ripped from your body and reforged by the flame of my own. There isn't even a guarantee your body will remain. But this is the only chance Remnant has, the Jaune Arc you will become shall be the Emperor to slay Salem," She said honestly. There was a silent Grimm acceptance in his remaining eye as the slow anguish of his soul being devoured finally took hold.

"Do not fret young Jaune," Crocea raised over her head as Jaune bowed his own," May Oum guide you to your beloved in the afterlife, leave the fate of this world to your successor and me."

Jaune drew a deep sigh," Long live the Emperor, may he protect those I have thus far."

Crocea beheaded the boy in one sickeningly graceful motion, blood staining its pristine white blade as Jaune slumped over," Praise be, the eternal Knight of Mors. May you rest in peace my son," Aurum uttered.

She maneuvered the blade over her chest and pulled. Crocea's already stained blade emerged out her back in a sickening squelch as her heart was destroyed.

"By my hand, I release thee."

The ensuing duel atop Beacon Tower left Cinder without an arm or a side of her face and the newly reforged Jaune Arc, Emperor of Mors, on deaths doorstep. The sheer power showcased by the new ruler and a literal force of nature was so destructive the dragon sent to destroy Beacon was ripped in half with a swing of his sword. The academy's grounds reduced to rubble as well. Jaune had never again been able to tap into the power he harnessed that fateful day but a great deal of it is still used in his Longsword-based combat.

The Jaune Arc that forged his transcripts to attend Beacon, the Jaune Arc that was the partner of Pyrrha Nikos and leader of team JNPR, the Jaune Arc that led a team to near-victory at the Vytal tournament was executed atop Beacon Tower. Never again to walk the lands of Remnant. In his stead was a man who retained Jaune's past memories and experiences but was not truly Jaune. This Jaune was fused with the soul of the last King of the Mors bloodline, Aurum Mors. As a result, after the fall he became more compassionate and stoic and less awkward and bumbling. His friend's chalked it up to Beacon changing him but even they would say the charismatic glint of a leader in his eye was a uncharacteristic but embraced change.

That does not discredit the man of being his own unique person, however, he forged his own path in the world and made his own memories while still dragging the trauma of his past self's life with him. The Jaune Arc that now commands Battle Group Beacon is a hero in every right and has done immeasurable good for this world and everyone in it.

That is why everyone on station at that bustling base in the Mistrali countryside rallied at his warcry. Why everyone, even the General of the now decimated city of Atlas felt their hearts swell with pride and courage at his words of liberation.

As all the King's men aboard all the King's horses rose into the sky with the mighty roar of his steel dragons, a silent war cry was shared between humanity's last hope.

"Long Live the Emperor, praise be the eternal Knight of Mors!"

Heya Nerds!

I'm back after a couple of months with this rather short chapter, I know. I just wanted to get some more details of this Jaune's past and just what the hell Crocea Mors actually is in this story out there. Hopefully, this tale has interested you enough to stick around and give it a follow. I've got a few chapters left in me and in the next one, we will finally be descending of Fortress Salem. And hey, tell me if you think this could be a whole ass story spanning from Beacon to a finale of my own making with a different story Arc. I'm not sure it'll be updated very often but I'd love to give it a try if the demand is there.

Anyway, have a lovely rest of your winter break.

-Cookies.