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Jaune's mind slowly drifted toward consciousness, but everything felt... heavy. His head throbbed, and a dizzying fog clouded his thoughts. He was exhausted, his body sluggish as if weighed down by something unseen. As awareness crept in, so did the faint murmurs of voices around him—some hushed, others more expressive.
"Is he, like, going to be okay, Professor?" a girl's voice asked, tinged with concern. "He took one nasty fall!"
'Who is that?' Jaune wondered groggily, the voice unfamiliar yet filled with genuine worry.
"Yeah, no kiddin'," another female voice chimed in, this one carrying a distinct accent Jaune couldn't quite place.
Then came a deeper, more measured voice—older, calm, and filled with a sense of wisdom that reminded Jaune of Ozpin. "Hmm... He appears to be unharmed, despite the height he fell from," the man noted thoughtfully.
"You should've zeen it, Professor!" a younger male voice exclaimed, his words laced with disbelief. His accent was thicker than the others, though Jaune couldn't immediately place its origin. "It vas so crazy!"
"Can you read his mind, Professor?" another male voice asked, his tone more controlled but carrying an edge of urgency. "See how he got here?"
"It's not a bad idea, Scott," the older man—now confirmed to be the Professor—replied evenly. "It wouldn't hurt to get some answers before he wakes up."
Jaune felt a slight twinge of unease at those words. Read his mind? Just who were these people?
'Wait!' Jaune's thoughts raced in panic. 'Is he really going to read my-!?'
Before he could even finish the thought, a sudden pressure settled against his temples. A pair of fingers, firm yet gentle, made contact with his skin. Then, like a dam breaking, something flooded into his mind—a foreign presence, vast and powerful.
His breath hitched as his entire world unraveled before him. In quick, overwhelming flashes, his memories surged forward, playing out as if they were happening all over again. He was no longer just remembering them—he was reliving them. And he wasn't alone.
The presence saw everything.
His family, the warmth of home, his sisters' laughter. The joy of arriving at Beacon, the pride of wearing his uniform. The camaraderie of his team, the bonds formed with Team RWBY. Then came the fall—Beacon in flames, the air thick with fear and despair. Pyrrha's final moments, her piercing green eyes full of sorrow and acceptance before she was ripped away from him forever.
The attack on Haven, the desperation of battle. Weiss, her life hanging by a thread, barely clinging to existence. Atlas, a once-mighty kingdom reduced to ruin. The relentless pursuit of the military, the weight of being hunted like a criminal.
And then Penny. Brave, kind, innocent Penny. Her laughter, her unwavering trust in him. Her death.
Jaune wince, his mind drowning in the sheer force of it all. The presence inside him felt it too—not just the images, but the raw emotions behind them. Every ounce of pain, grief, and guilt. Every moment of joy and fleeting hope. It was as if his very soul had been laid bare.
A sharp gasp tore through the room as the Professor recoiled, his hands pulling away from Jaune's temples as if he had been burned. At that exact moment, Jaune's eyes snapped open, his breath hitching as he bolted upright. His heart pounded against his ribs, his chest rising and falling in quick, panicked breaths.
He barely had time to process what had just happened before his surroundings came into focus. He was in some kind of medical room, sleek yet unfamiliar, sterile yet not unwelcoming. Around him stood five figures—one older man seated in a wheelchair and four teenagers, two male and two female, all watching him with mixed expressions of concern and surprise.
"Professor, are you alright?" one of the boys asked, stepping forward slightly. His voice was familiar—Jaune recognized it from earlier. Scott. It had to be him.
Jaune barely registered the question. His survival instincts were already kicking in, and his gaze darted around the room, searching for an exit. His breaths grew shallower, his muscles tensed. He didn't know where he was, who these people were, or what they wanted from him.
"Where am I!?" Jaune demanded, his voice raw with anxiety. His eyes flicked to each of them, gauging their reactions. "Who are you people!?"
"Whoa! Chill, man! Itz alright!" The other male teen, the one with the heavy accent, held up his hands in a calming gesture.
Jaune didn't feel reassured. He pushed himself off the cot, his stance defensive as he took a step back. "Where am I!?" His voice was sharper this time, more desperate. "Vacuo!?"
"Hey, it's a-right! You're safe!" The girl with the accent spoke this time, her tone gentle but firm.
Jaune wasn't convinced. His instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He reached down to his waist, his fingers searching for the familiar grip of Crocea Mors—only to find nothing. His stomach dropped. His sword was gone.
His expression darkened, and he turned back toward the group, his eyes now filled with suspicion and anger. "Where's my sword!?" he demanded. "What did you do with it!?"
"Listen, just take it easy, okay?" the second girl said, trying to soothe him.
But Jaune wasn't in the mood to listen. He wasn't getting the answers he needed, and staying here felt like a mistake. His mind screamed at him to move, to act. Without another word, he shoved past the group, ignoring their protests as he sprinted toward the door.
He didn't know where he was going, but he knew one thing for certain—he had to get out of there.
As Jaune burst through the doorway, his boots clanged against the sleek metallic floor of a long corridor. The entire place was made of smooth, reflective metal, and the cool air sent a chill down his spine. His heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted forward, his eyes darting frantically in search of an exit—anything that could lead him outside.
He ran past several doors, all of them shut tight, offering no indication of what lay beyond them. Was this some kind of underground facility? A military base? His mind raced with possibilities, but he didn't have time to dwell on them. He needed to get out.
After nearly a minute of running, his lungs burning from exertion, Jaune finally spotted an elevator at the end of the corridor. Without hesitation, he dove inside, slamming his hand against the panel. His fingers hovered over the buttons before he hit the one labeled with the highest floor he could find. If he was underground, getting to the surface was his best bet.
The moment the doors shut, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His reflection in the polished walls stared back at him—disheveled hair, a panicked expression, and sweat beginning to form on his forehead. The elevator barely gave him time to gather his thoughts before it reached its destination with a soft chime.
The doors slid open, revealing a stark contrast to the metallic bunker below. This floor was completely different—like stepping into another world. The hallway stretched before him, decorated with towering stone statues and elegant paintings lining the walls. The air smelled of polished wood and faint traces of old parchment. Unlike the cold sterility below, this place had warmth, history—something far more refined.
It looked like a mansion.
Jaune hesitated for only a second before stepping out. The sound of his own breathing filled the quiet space as he took in the grand architecture. This wasn't a prison... at least, it didn't look like one. But before he could take another step—
"Stop right there, bub,"
The deep, gruff voice came from behind him, cutting through the silence like a blade.
Jaune spun around, muscles tensing instinctively. Standing a few feet away was a broad-shouldered man, built like a brawler. His thick black hair was slightly unkempt, his rugged face framed by pronounced sideburns and a short, scruffy beard. He wore a worn brown leather jacket over a simple black shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. His stance was relaxed, but there was a weight to his presence—a quiet, restrained intensity.
"I don't wanna hurt ya," the man said, his voice as rough as gravel. "But I will if you don't make this easy,"
Jaune's eyes narrowed. Every instinct told him this man was dangerous. His confidence, the way he held himself—he wasn't just some guy playing guard duty. He was a fighter.
Jaune clenched his fists, feeling the familiar hum of his Aura rushing to his skin. He wasn't the best at hand-to-hand combat, but that didn't mean he was defenseless. If this guy thought he'd just roll over and surrender, he was dead wrong.
Jaune planted his foot back, bracing himself, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. If this was going to be a fight, he was going to make sure he got the first hit in.
The man's sharp eyes flickered to Jaune's clenched fists, reading his intent in an instant. Instead of backing down or shifting into a defensive stance, he responded in a way Jaune hadn't anticipated.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his hands, his fingers curling slightly—then, with a distinct snikt, three gleaming metal blades extended from the skin between his knuckles.
Jaune's breath hitched. His eyes widened in pure shock as he instinctively took a step back. "What the—?"
His mind scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing. The blades were real—not just some weapon strapped to his hands, but actually coming out of him. There was no mechanism, no sleight of hand. It was as if they were a part of his very body.
'Is he some kind of Faunus!?' Jaune thought frantically, his heart pounding. He had seen Faunus with claws before—Blake's dad's retractable nails, Velvet and Blake's ears, Sun's tail—but this was something entirely different. 'I—I've never seen anything like that!'
The man exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable, but there was no mistaking the weight of his warning. He lifted one of his clawed fists, the blades catching the soft glow of the hallway lights, their edges gleaming with an unmistakable sharpness.
"Last chance, kid," he said, his voice low and steady, edged with a dangerous certainty. "Don't make this harder than it has to be,"
Jaune hesitated, his gaze flicking between the man with the claws and the blades still extended from his knuckles. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, but he had to ask. "What... are you?" Jaune finally said, his voice laced with confusion. "Faunus?"
The man's brow furrowed. His expression shifted from mild irritation to genuine bewilderment. "Huh?" He tilted his head slightly, his rugged face scrunching up. "What the hell are you talkin' about, kid?"
Jaune swallowed, still struggling to make sense of the situation. "Just who—no, what are you?" His confusion overshadowed his previous anxiety, his survival instincts momentarily forgotten in favor of pure curiosity.
Before the man could answer, another voice cut through the air, calm yet firm.
"We're Mutants, Mr. Arc,"
Jaune's head snapped toward the direction of the elevator. Standing, or rather, sitting there, as composed as ever, was the Professor. The four teens from before were behind him, each of them wearing expressions that ranged from concern to intrigue.
Jaune took a step back, still wary. His hands twitched by his sides, fingers itching for a sword that wasn't there. "How do you know my name?" he demanded, his blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.
The Professor's small, knowing smile didn't falter. "I'm a telepath, Jaune," he explained, his tone gentle yet firm. "When I read your mind, I learned everything about you... and I know that you are not of this world,"
A stunned silence followed.
Jaune stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. His mind reeled at the Professor's words, a whirlwind of thoughts colliding all at once. 'Not of this world?' Jaune asked himself with horror. 'No...! There's no way!'
The weight of the statement wasn't lost on the others either. The teens exchanged confused, uncertain glances, while the gruff man's expression darkened.
"Professor, what do you mean?" Scott asked, stepping forward slightly. His usually composed voice had an edge of uncertainty now.
"I'm with the kid on this one," the man with the claws muttered, his deep voice carrying an undertone of irritation. His claws retracted with a soft snikt, but his sharp eyes remained locked on the Professor. "Just what the heck's goin' on, Charles?"
"It's just as I said, Mr. Arc is not of our world," the Professor spoke again, his voice steady yet tinged with a solemn weight.
The room fell into an uneasy silence, tension thick in the air as everyone processed his words. The Professor glanced at Jaune, his expression gentle but unwavering.
"He comes from a world vastly different from ours, isn't that right, Mr. Arc?" The Professor asked.
Jaune's breath grew uneven as he stared at the man in the wheelchair. His entire body felt cold, as if a pit had opened in his stomach and swallowed every ounce of warmth. His hands trembled, fingers twitching as if trying to grasp onto something—anything—that could anchor him back to reality.
"No..." he muttered, shaking his head slowly. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the denial in it was loud. "No, this... this can't be right,"
His legs felt unsteady beneath him, but he forced himself to stay standing. His frantic blue eyes darted around the hallway, searching for something—some landmark, some detail, some proof—that this was still Remnant. That this was some elaborate trick or misunderstanding.
"You're... you're lying, right?" His voice cracked slightly, fear creeping in despite his efforts to suppress it. "I-I... I'm still on Remnant, right?" His tone wavered, desperate, as if saying it out loud could make it true.
The Professor's expression darkened, the glimmer of sympathy in his gaze only making Jaune's stomach sink further. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Arc," he said softly.
Jaune's breathing hitched. His whole world—his entire existence—felt like it was unraveling before him.
Jaune's legs finally gave way beneath him. He crumpled to his knees, his body giving in to the overwhelming tide of emotion that surged through him. It felt as if everything—his guilt, his fears, the unbearable weight of his past actions—had come crashing down all at once, like a freight train barreling through him. The tears he'd been desperately holding back now flowed freely, spilling down his face in hot, steady streams.
He couldn't escape the image. The memory. Penny's final moments, her bright eyes flickering with pain before... before he had done the unthinkable. He had taken her life.
He had killed Penny.
The weight of it hit him harder than anything else. His breath hitched as his heart twisted in agony. He had taken the life of someone who meant the world to Ruby, to all of them. It may have been Penny's choice, but he could've refused, could've... he should've done something else besides going through with her request. He should've saved her instead of doing what he did. That thought only made the guilt burn deeper.
And now, here he was, in some strange world. A world so different from Remnant, it was impossible to wrap his mind around it.
His punishment, it seemed, was not just losing everything and everyone, but being cast into an entirely new existence—one where he knew nothing, could trust no one, and felt completely and utterly alone.
It was then that he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. A firm, warm hand settled there, offering some semblance of comfort.
The Professor's voice was soft, yet filled with a quiet strength. "I do not know everything that you are feeling, young man, but I promise you, we will help you as much as we can," He paused for a moment, his words weighing heavily in the stillness. "Please, follow us... There is much to discuss,"
Jaune's breath caught in his throat as he slowly wiped his eyes, his hands trembling. He didn't feel ready to face what lay ahead, but he forced himself to stand. He couldn't stay on the floor, broken and lost. He had to move forward—even if it was only one step at a time.
As he pushed himself upright, the Professor began to roll down the hallway, the gruff man following close behind him. Jaune hesitated for just a moment, feeling the presence of the four teens standing behind him. They were silent, their eyes filled with sympathy, curiosity, and perhaps a little uncertainty, but they didn't push him, they just waited.
Jaune followed slowly, his thoughts a chaotic storm inside his head. He had so many questions—so many things he needed answers to—but in that moment, he could only hope that the Professor had at least some of them.
He wasn't sure what was happening, why he was here, or what he was supposed to do next, but one thing was certain: in this new world, he was lost, and he needed help to find his way back—if there even was a way back...
The group made their way through the elegant hallways of the mansion-like school before entering what appeared to be an office. The room had an air of sophistication, lined with bookshelves filled with aged tomes and neatly arranged files. A large wooden desk sat near the far end of the room, and the warm glow of a nearby lamp cast a soft light over the space. Comfortable-looking chairs and a set of couches were positioned near the center, giving the space a welcoming yet professional atmosphere.
Jaune hesitated for a moment before taking a seat across from the Professor, his hands resting uneasily on his lap. The gruff man, who had remained silent for most of the walk, sat beside the Professor, his arms crossed as he eyed Jaune with a skeptical expression. The four teens, still watching him with curiosity, stood near the couches, waiting for the conversation to unfold.
Jaune exhaled sharply before finally speaking. "So... am I really not on Remnant anymore?" His voice wavered slightly as he forced himself to ask the question, despite already knowing what the answer would be. "I'm... in a different world?"
Professor Xavier nodded, his expression calm but serious. "I'm afraid so, Mr. Arc," he said gently. "My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and you are currently on a world called Earth, in a region known as Westchester, New York, this place—where you now find yourself—is the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, a school I founded to help those with special abilities learn to control and understand their powers, in many ways, it is not unlike the academies you have in your world, training those who are gifted in ways beyond the norm,"
Jaune furrowed his brow at that, still trying to process everything. "Wait… so you're saying this place is like a Huntsman Academy?" His gaze flickered between the Professor and the others in the room. "You train people to fight? Do you have Grimm in your world?"
Professor Xavier chuckled softly and shook his head. "No, the creatures of your world do not exist in this one," he explained. "But there are young people here who possess extraordinary abilities, not unlike the ones you and your friends wield, the difference, however, is that while your powers—your Aura, your Semblance—are a manifestation of your soul, the abilities of those in this world are something we are simply born with... A mutation, if you will,"
Jaune blinked, caught off guard by how much the Professor seemed to know about his world. Then, he remembered—he had read my mind. The thought made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, but he forced a small, wary smile. "You know, it's kinda scary how much you know about my world," he admitted. "Still… what exactly do you mean by mutation? What kind of powers are we talking about here?"
Professor Xavier folded his hands together, his expression patient as he explained. "We call it the X-Gene, a unique genetic factor that causes some individuals to be born with extraordinary abilities, these powers manifest in different ways—some gain enhanced strength, others heightened senses, some can manipulate elements, and a few even possess abilities that defy conventional science itself, we refer to ourselves as Mutants,"
Jaune’s gaze flickered toward the teens standing near the couches. He had assumed they were just students—regular people—but if what the Professor was saying was true, then that meant all of them had some kind of ability. He looked at them with renewed curiosity.
"So… all of you have these mutations too?" he asked.
Scott gave a firm nod. “Yeah,” he said, adjusting the red-tinted glasses resting on his face. “I’m Scott Summers, by the way, and these shades? They’re not just for looks, if I take them off while I’m awake, I’ll be blasting lasers out of my eyes nonstop,”
Jaune’s brow furrowed as he processed that. “Wait… so you just have laser vision all the time?” he asked.
Scott shrugged. “Pretty much,” he replied. “I can’t turn it off, that’s why I need these glasses—special ruby quartz lenses, they keep my powers in check,”
Jaune let out a low whistle. “Damn… that sounds like a pain to deal with,”
Scott chuckled. “You have no idea,”
Before Jaune could respond, the other teen with the heavy accent stepped forward, a playful grin on his face. “And I am Kurt Vagner,” he introduced himself, his tone lighthearted. “But you can call me the Incredible Nightcrawler!”
With a sudden BAMF! and a puff of dark smoke, Kurt vanished from where he stood—only to instantly reappear right in front of Jaune.
Jaune flinched back slightly, startled by the sudden movement. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “That’s… okay, that’s cool,”
Kurt beamed. “Ja? It is quite useful,” he said, clearly pleased with Jaune’s reaction.
However, before the conversation could continue, Professor Xavier’s voice cut in. “Kurt,” he said gently, “Isn’t there something else you should show Jaune?”
The smile on Kurt’s face faltered for a moment, and he let out a small sigh. His fingers hesitated over the watch strapped to his wrist, but after a brief moment of internal debate, he tapped a few buttons. A faint buzz filled the air, and the image of a normal-looking teen flickered away—revealing his true form.
Jaune’s eyes widened slightly as he took in Kurt’s appearance. His skin was a deep shade of blue, his ears pointed, and a long, spaded tail flicked behind him. His hands only had three thick fingers, and his feet were more digitigrade than human, with only two toes on each.
“I… also look like this,” Kurt said, his voice carrying an uncertain edge. It was clear that he was used to people reacting poorly to his appearance.
Jaune blinked at him for a moment before breaking into a small smile. “Honestly? Not the weirdest thing I’ve seen,” he admitted.
Kurt’s glowing yellow eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, his tone surprised.
Jaune nodded. “Yeah, my world has Faunus—people with animal traits,” he explained. “I’ve met people with rabbit ears, lizard tails, even full-on gills and scales, compared to some of them, you’d fit right in,”
Kurt’s expression instantly brightened. “Whoa! That’s awesome!” he said excitedly, his tail flicking behind him with renewed energy.
Everyone either chuckled or smiled at Kurt’s enthusiastic reaction, the tension in the room easing just a little. Even Jaune felt himself relaxing, despite the whirlwind of emotions still swirling inside him.
The next to step forward was one of the girls—a brunette with her hair tied up in a neat ponytail, dressed in a cozy-looking pink sweater. She had an easygoing air about her as she grinned at Jaune.
"I'm Kitty Pryde," she introduced herself. "And I can, like, phase through stuff,"
Before Jaune could ask what she meant, she casually demonstrated—reaching her hand straight into Scott’s stomach as if he wasn’t even solid.
“Wha—!? Hey!” Scott yelped, instinctively jerking back, though it did nothing to stop her.
Kitty giggled as she pulled her hand free, clearly enjoying messing with her teammate. “Relax, you big baby, it’s not like you can even feel it,”
Scott muttered something under his breath while the others snickered. Jaune, however, was watching Kitty with open curiosity. “That’s… actually kinda amazing,” he admitted. “So you can just walk through walls and stuff?”
“Yup! Pretty useful for sneaking around,” She smirked. “And for pranking people,”
Jaune chuckled before shifting his attention to the last girl, who stepped forward with a more reserved expression. She had pale skin and brown hair, though the front of it was strikingly white—whether that was natural or dyed, Jaune wasn’t sure.
“I’m Rogue,” she said simply, her voice carrying a Southern drawl. “Ah can copy other people’s powers with just a touch… but it knocks ‘em out cold in the process,”
Jaune raised a curious brow. “Wait, seriously? That sounds pretty strong.”
Rogue shrugged. “It can be,” she admitted. “But it ain’t exactly a power you wanna use on just anyone, it ain’t exactly pleasant experiance,”
Jaune’s curiosity only grew. “Mind if I try?” he asked, wondering what it would feel like.
Rogue gave him a skeptical look. “You sure ‘bout that?” she asked, crossing her arms. “You did just wake up, and Ah’d hate to have to pick ya up off the floor,”
Jaune chuckled. “I think I can handle a quick touch, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Rogue smirked at his confidence but shook her head. “A-right, your funeral,” she said before pulling off one of her gloves. She reached out her bare hand toward Jaune.
Rogue strode toward Jaune, tugging off her glove as she did. He followed suit, pulling off his own glove—if only to ensure that nothing interfered with her ability.
"Ready?" she asked, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.
Jaune nodded and extended his hand toward her. Rogue hesitated for just a moment before pressing her palm against his.
The room fell silent, everyone expecting Jaune to collapse or react in some way—but nothing happened.
Rogue’s brows furrowed as she stared at their joined hands. “What the…?” she muttered, tilting her head in confusion. “You ain't feelin' anything?”
Jaune looked down at their hands as well, just as confused. “Uh… no,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s because of my Aura? I think it sees your touch as a threat and is blocking it,”
Rogue’s eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to focus. “But Ah can still feel your hand,” she pointed out.
Jaune thought for a second before nodding in realization. “That makes sense, Aura acts like a protective barrier—it softens blows, deflects damage, and keeps us safe, even though it looks like we’re touching, you’re actually just feeling my Aura, not my skin,” he explained.
Rogue’s eyes widened slightly. She glanced down at their hands again, squeezing his just a little. It still felt real, as if she were actually holding someone’s hand without the fear of hurting them.
"Whoa…" she breathed out softly. "That’s… pretty nice, honestly,"
Jaune shrugged. “I guess,” he said before finally pulling his hand away.
Rogue blinked, suddenly realizing how long she had been holding on. A light blush dusted her cheeks as she awkwardly lowered her hand and stepped back.
“Uh… well,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “That was… different,”
Jaune smirked slightly. “Not what you were expecting?”
Rogue scoffed, crossing her arms but unable to fully hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Not exactly,” she admitted. “But… Ah ain't complainin’,"
Scott and Kitty exchanged amused glances while Kurt grinned. “I think someone's got a crush, am I right?"
Kitty giggled at his comment.
Professor Xavier, who had been watching the entire exchange with a thoughtful expression, finally spoke. “Indeed, this is quite fascinating," Professor Xavier. "Jaune, your Aura provides an unprecedented level of protection, Rogue, this might be the first time you’ve ever been able to ‘touch’ someone without consequence,”
Rogue’s expression softened at that realization. She had gone so long fearing her own power, afraid of hurting others with the simplest of touches… but for the first time, she didn’t have to worry.
“…Yeah,” she murmured, glancing at Jaune. “Ah guess it is,”
Jaune turned back to Professor Xavier, a thought forming in his mind. “You can read minds, right?” he asked, curiosity edging into his tone.
The Professor gave a small nod, but instead of replying verbally, his voice echoed smoothly inside Jaune’s head. “Correct, Jaune,”
Jaune blinked in surprise before a grin spread across his face. That was really cool—he had to admit. Was this what Oscar had to deal with when Ozpin spoke in his mind? The idea made him chuckle to himself.
Turning to the gruff-looking man who had been watching him with an unreadable expression, Jaune tried to push past his lingering nervousness. The guy still looked like he could tear through a brick wall without breaking a sweat.
“Metal claws, right?” Jaune asked cautiously.
The man gave a slow nod, his rugged face unreadable. “Yeah, and you can call me Logan, kid,” Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “Though, on the job, call me Wolverine,”
Jaune nodded, taking mental note of that. “Nice to meet you, Logan... And nice to meet all of you,” he said, glancing at the rest of the group. “I’m Jaune Arc, and… well, as you heard from Professor Xavier, I’m definitely not from around here,”
Scott, who had been listening closely, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes slightly in thought. “Yeah… about that,” he said. “You called it Remnant, right? That’s where you’re from?”
Jaune nodded. “Yeah, that’s the name of my world,” he confirmed. “And, uh… I get the feeling it’s a lot different from yours.”
Kitty raised an eyebrow. “Different how?” she asked.
Jaune sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, for starters… do you guys have, uh… monsters? Like, actual monsters? Because where I come from, we’ve got creatures called Grimm, and they’re basically nightmare-fueled killing machines,”
Kurt’s tail flicked in interest. “Monsters? As in the big, scary, "I will eat you" kind?”
“Exactly,” Jaune said with a nod. “They don’t have souls, they don’t feel emotions—just pure destruction, and that’s why people like me train to become Huntsmen, to fight them and protect the world,”
Logan snorted. “Kid, you’re tellin’ me you were training to be some kinda monster hunter?” he asked.
Jaune gave a half-smile. “Pretty much, though, I was… kind of a late bloomer,” he admitted.
Scott raised an eyebrow. “A late bloomer? What do you mean?”
Jaune hesitated, but eventually sighed. “I, uh… kinda faked my way into my school, I didn’t have the same training as the others, and I had to catch up real fast,”
Logan smirked. “Heh, gotta respect the hustle,” he muttered.
Jaune chuckled. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly easy, but, I had good friends who helped me along the way,” His expression darkened slightly, memories surfacing of those he had left behind—especially the ones he’d lost. He quickly shook the thought away, forcing himself to focus. “Anyway, that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Remnant, We’ve got Aura, Semblances, Dust, the whole deal,”
Rogue tilted her head, her expression skeptical yet intrigued. “Semblance? Dust?” she repeated, trying to process the unfamiliar terms.
Jaune nodded. “Yeah, a semblance is like a secondary power we get from our Aura—it’s unique to each person, kind of like your mutations, but more… individualized,” he explained. “It’s like having a personal superpower that only you can use,”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s your Semblance?”
Jaune hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Mine’s… kinda weird, It’s called "Aura Amplification", basically, I can boost my Aura and even enhance other people’s Auras or Semblance, I can make them stronger, help them recover faster… stuff like that,” he said. “Not the flashiest ability, but it’s come in handy more times than I can count,”
Rogue nodded, taking that in before shifting gears. “And this… Dust? What’s that?”
“Oh, right, Dust is… well, think of it like magical rocks,” He scratched the back of his head, searching for a better way to explain. “I mean, they’re actually crystallized energy, but we use them like fuel for weapons or to create elemental effects, fire, water, ice, lightning—you name it, there’s probably Dust for it,”
Kitty let out a breath, clearly trying to wrap her head around everything. “Okay, so let me get this straight—you’re from another world, you fight soul-eating monsters, you can use your soul to protect yourself and you have magical rocks?”
Jaune shrugged. “That’s the simple version, yeah,”
Kurt grinned. “I like this guy,” he declared.
"I'm sure you do, Blue," Logan muttered, casting a brief glance at Kurt before shifting his attention back to Jaune. "Tell me, kid, how'd you end up here in the first place?"
Jaune's expression darkened instantly, his shoulders tensing as his gaze dropped to the floor. A hollow pit formed in his stomach, his mind flashing back to the last moments before he was swallowed by whatever force had thrown him into this world. The weight of his actions, of Penny’s lifeless body in his arms, came crashing down like an avalanche.
"I..." Jaune swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "I really don’t want to talk about it, ff that’s alright," he said, his voice quieter than before.
Logan frowned, about to say something, but before he could, Xavier gently raised a hand to stop him.
"Logan, please," the Professor said calmly. "Do not press further,"
There was a softness in his tone, but also a firm finality. Logan wasn’t the type to back down easily, but he knew Xavier well enough to understand when to let something go. If the Professor was stepping in, that meant he had already seen enough inside Jaune’s mind to know the wounds were still fresh.
Logan sighed through his nose, crossing his arms. "Alright, I won’t push it," he relented.
Xavier offered him a grateful nod. "Thank you," he said before turning his focus back to Jaune.
Jaune exhaled shakily, grateful for the reprieve, but the tension in the room remained thick.
"So, uh… what do we do now?" Scott asked, breaking the silence. He looked at Jaune with curiosity and concern. "Is there a way for you to get back home?"
Jaune let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "I don’t know," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I ended up here by accident, one second, I was… falling, and the next I was here, I-I don’t even know if getting back is possible,"
"I'm certain there's a way, and we will do everything in our power to help you find it," Xavier assured Jaune, his voice calm and steady. "However, for the time being, it would be best if you stayed with us, adjusting to a new world is no small thing, and we can offer you guidance, support, and resources to help make the transition easier, besides, we could use someone like you here at the Institute,"
Jaune fell silent, mulling over the offer. The Professor was right—he had no idea how long he'd be stuck here, and trying to figure everything out on his own would be reckless. He needed help adjusting to this strange new world, and these people—despite the differences between their powers and his—seemed willing to give him that.
If he was trapped here for the time being, then he might as well make himself useful. Maybe, in some small way, he could repay them for their kindness.
But even as he accepted that reality, his thoughts drifted back to Remnant—to Team RWBY, to his friends, to what remained of their fractured world. He had no way of knowing what was happening there. Were they safe? Were they fighting for their lives? Had things gotten worse since he vanished?
A lump formed in his throat as his mind returned to the last thing he saw before ending up here. Penny… her bright, hopeful eyes going dark, her body going still in his arms.
Maybe this was his punishment. To be exiled to another world, unable to know what had become of the people he cared about. To be left with nothing but the weight of his actions and the uncertainty of whether or not he could ever set things right.
Maybe… he deserved this.
Jaune swallowed hard, pushing those thoughts aside as best as he could. Right now, there was only one thing he could do: move forward.
"Thank you, Professor," he said at last, his voice quiet but sincere.
Xavier nodded. "Of course, Jaune,"
The Professor then turned to the others. "For now, you can take Evan's old room," he informed Jaune. "Kurt and Scott will help clear out his belongings and move them to the attic,"
Before anyone else could speak, Rogue stepped forward, tucking a strand of her white-streaked hair behind her ear. "Ah can help with that, Professor," she offered.
Xavier regarded her with a small, knowing smile. "Are you sure, Rogue?" he asked, raising a brow.
"Yeah, it's a-right," she said with a little shrug, though there was a softness to her expression. "Ah don’t mind,"
Jaune glanced at her, surprised by the offer but grateful nonetheless. It was a small thing, but after everything, just knowing that someone was willing to help him settle in made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.
"Thanks, Rogue," he said, offering her a small smile.
"Very well Rogue, you may help them clear out Evan's belongings," Professor Xavier said with a knowing smile.
Logan let out a low grunt, arms crossed over his chest. He shot Xavier a skeptical look. "You sure that's a good idea, Chuck? Moving Porcupine’s stuff outta his room might not sit well with Storm,"
"If she has an issue, I will discuss it with her personally," Xavier responded calmly. "However, she must understand that Evan has made his decision, he chose to leave, and until he returns, his room can be put to use for someone in need,"
Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly still unsure but unwilling to argue further. "Yeah, yeah… you're right," he muttered.
"Good," Xavier said with a nod before turning his gaze back to the teens. "Scott, Kurt, Rogue—please take Jaune to his new room and assist in moving Evan’s things,"
"Sure thing, Professor," Scott replied without hesitation. He turned to Jaune with an easy-going smile. "C'mon Jaune, once we get Evan’s stuff moved, we’ll show you around the place,"
Jaune returned the smile, grateful for the gesture. "Sounds good," he said, following the four teens out of the office.
As the door clicked shut behind them, the room grew quiet, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace in the corner. Logan remained standing, his rugged features twisted into a look of skepticism. His eyes never left the Professor.
"You sure we can trust him, Chuck?" he asked, voice low and gruff.
"Of that, I have no doubt," Xavier said softly, his voice carrying a sense of unwavering confidence. "From what I saw within Jaune's mind, he's an incredibly brave young man, despite his inner turmoil and the self-doubt that clouds him, I have every faith that he will be a valuable addition to our home, more than that... I hope that during his time here, he can learn to let go of the guilt that burdens him and allow himself the chance to heal after everything he’s experienced in his world,"
Logan crossed his arms, the lines of his face hardening as he looked at Xavier. "And what exactly has he gone through in his world, Chuck?" His voice was gruff, as though he'd be willing to listen but wasn't going to take any half-truths.
Xavier’s expression softened as he considered the question, his mind reaching for the delicate balance between truth and respect for Jaune’s privacy. "It's not my place to say, Logan," he replied, his tone calm but firm. "But trust me on this, old friend—Jaune is a good kid, he has a weight on his shoulders, one that I believe he will be able to shed in time, and I believe he can be trusted,"
Logan let out a low hum, a sound that signified both thought and hesitation. After a beat, he finally nodded. "Alright, Charles," he said, the edge of skepticism still lingering in his voice, but softer now. "If you say the kid checks out, then I’ll trust ya, but just so you know, I’ll be keepin’ an eye on him,"
Xavier smiled gently, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I wouldn’t expect anything less, Logan," he said, his voice warm with understanding.
With that, the two men shared a quiet moment before going their separate ways. Xavier rose from his seat and made his way down the hall, his mind already turning toward the next steps. He would need to inform Storm and Hank about Jaune's arrival, and perhaps it was time to prepare a small introduction for the other students. As much as he hoped Jaune would find his place here, he knew the adjustment wouldn’t be easy for the young man.
Meanwhile, Logan grunted in acknowledgment and turned toward the exit, a familiar scowl settling back onto his face. Whether he was heading to the kitchen, his bike, or the training grounds, he wasn’t sure. What mattered more was that, for now, Jaune was under Xavier’s roof, and Logan couldn’t help but feel be both skeptical of the kid and a bit worried for him.
If the kid was a threat, Logan would take care of it, but if Xavier was right about Jaune, then when the kid needed help, Logan would make sure to lend a hand when the time came.
For now, the future lay shrouded in uncertainty, an intricate web of unknowns for both Jaune and those who called the Xavier Institute their home. There were questions yet to be answered, challenges yet to be faced, and binds yet formed, but amid all the confusion and chaos, one constant remained... There was still something worth fighting for.
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Hey there! If you're wondering why Rogue’s dialogue sounds a little different, it’s because I’m writing out her Southern accent. I’m trying to keep it distinct without making it too similar to the 90s cartoon version (not that there’s anything wrong with that Rogue!). So when she says “Ah,” she means “I.” I know it might take a little getting used to, especially in lines like:
"Ah… A-Ah really didn’t think ‘bout that,"
But I hope you’ll bear with me—I want to capture her accent as best as I can!
As for Kurt, his accent in X-Men: Evolution isn’t as heavy as it was in X2 or Wolverine & The X-Men, so I won’t be writing him with a super thick German accent. It’ll still be there, just not as intense. Funny enough, both Kurt and Magneto are German, yet Kurt has the heavy accent while Magneto barely has one at all.
Oh, and if you want a fun fact! Magneto’s voice actor in Evolution was Christopher Judge. Yep, that Christopher Judge, the voice of Old Kratos!
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I’ve got a lot of exciting ideas for this story, and I can’t wait to share them with you!