RWBY - Child Of Light

Chapter 8: The Weight Of Victory

I awaken to the chill of absence. Silence greets me, soft and oppressive.

I am alone.

For a moment, I pretend not to care, hoping the bitter pain inside my guts to be wrong. But the truth insists on making itself known. Her things—few as they were—are gone, vanished without a trace. A bitter chuckle escapes my lips, a hollow attempt at defiance. I splash cold water on my face, as though it might wash away the remnants of restless dreams and bring clarity to this new day.

It doesn't.

Not in the mood to linger in this now empty space, I rummage through the gear I picked up yesterday. Two items catch my attention. I start with the [Beginner's Leather Gloves].

[New Effect Discovered] Here We Are: Beginner's set 4/3.

Experience gain increased by 20%

All pieces now provide 5 armor.

As I slip the gloves on, my armor shifts subtly. The texture of bark melds into the brown leather, transforming it into something reminiscent of Treant skin. The gloves don't just look robust—they feel it, like the weight and solidity of ancient wood. Tiny branches and glossy green leaves sprout along the hide of the entire armor, their vibrant hues almost alive against the earthy tones.

The other item I just cannot ignore is the [Ring of Immortality].

[Ring of Immortality]

Lethal damage will instead heal the wearer for 10% of his max Hp.

I slide it onto my finger and feel a faint, pulsing warmth. A subtle sense of safety settles over me, the kind that whispers, You're not as fragile as you once were.

With these equipped, I gather my belongings, settle my bill, and walk my as onto the first ship to Beacon Academy.

Luckily, the sight awaiting me is enough to lift the cloud that has been hanging over my head.

Beacon is a marvel.

Perched atop a jagged coastline, the academy rises like something out of a dream. Its silhouette is commanding, yet it holds a strange, otherworldly elegance. The tallest tower radiates a soft, emerald glow, the light so vibrant it paints the clouds in shifting shades of green. Rivers seem to spill directly from the academy's heart, winding their way over undulating hills and vanishing into the distant horizon.

My fellow passengers gather at the ship's railings as if enchanted. I can't blame them. The academy is absurdly grandiose, almost mocking the laws of physics with its whimsical arches and impossibly balanced turrets. Moss and creeping ivy claim parts of the stone, lending it the appearance of something ancient and eternal—like it was born from the earth itself rather than built.

I scan the faces around me. Strangely, most are unfamiliar. Considering today is meant for would-be students to arrive, it's odd not to recognize anyone, but the thought drifts away as quickly as it came. The moment the ship touches solid ground, I step off, my scroll in hand. Administrative staff greet me, directing me to the front desk with practiced formality.

There I find a familiar face.

Not a gentle face, not a welcoming face. But familiar, nonetheless.

Glynda Goodwitch stands visibly impatient as she adjusts her glasses. Her rigid posture softens half-heartedly when our eyes meet. She looks as though she's trying to relax but has forgotten how.

"Vesper Bolt?" she asks, her tone clipped. She steps forward, crossing her arms as she inspects me with a quick, critical eye. "Not many students here at Beacon gain entry through a recommendation letter—let alone one written by the director himself."