RWBY: LUCID

Jaune dived through the window like an Olympic swimmer hitting water.

Except this water was jagged air, rusted wind, and a ruined living room floor.

He landed with a most ungraceful roll, scrambled upright, and dove straight behind the kitchen island just as the front of his house exploded.

BOOM.

The door didn't just splinter—it practically ceased to exist. Wood, plaster, and half the wall shattered like paper as the creature barreled through, roaring in fury.

The couch had been his trap and it worked.

Sort of.

It had snagged around the beast's tusks, the bulk of it slamming right into the thing's face and staying there like some awkward piece of armor. The legs tangled beneath the boar's limbs, the back cushions splaying upward like a frilly hat as it stumbled and thrashed. A low, muffled squeal tore through the mess, like the beast was offended.

Jaune peeked from behind the island, wide-eyed. "Is… is it wearing the couch?"

And then, with almost comedic timing, the monster charged again.

Even blind, the thing honed in on him with terrifying precision.

Jaune had just enough time to mutter a curse before diving out of the way.

CRASH.

The island didn't survive.

Wood exploded. Countertop cracked in two. Broken plates shattered further and rusted metal pans bounced across the room like thrown shields. Jaune hit the floor hard, shoulder-first, and scrambled to his feet just in time to watch the beast faceplant and destroy what remained of the kitchen.

Drawers launched themselves across the floor. The fridge tipped and even the oven groaned under the weight of a couch-wearing horror pig.

It lay there for half a second, seemingly stunned under its own momentum.

Covered in drywall dust and bits of upholstery, it looked… ridiculous.

"Okay, you look stupid," Jaune muttered, panting. "But you hit like a truck…"

The beast growled low—an earthquake in miniature—and shoved itself upright with unnatural speed.

Debris clung to its body like cursed armor. Chair legs stabbed outward like extra spines. A kitchen towel flapped off one tusk like a war banner.

Jaune backpedaled fast.

His heart was slamming in his chest. 

His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. His arms stung from the impact. His legs were burning already and his calves were locking up. He was also pretty sure his left knee had clipped a cabinet too hard on the last dive.

'This is bad—this is really bad.'

It charged again.

He barely avoided it. Again.

This time he flung himself sideways and rolled, scraping his elbow raw on the floorboards. Something warm smeared across his forearm—blood, probably.

He got up anyway.

His head started to swim.

There was no time to breathe. His chest heaved heavily and his body was screaming bloody murder at him.

The beast circled back, slipping slightly on the ruined tiles.

"Okay," Jaune gasped, trying to blink sweat from his eyes. "You win the prize for most annoying pork—ever."

His vision pulsed at the edges. His skin felt hot and cold at the same time.

He stumbled backward, breath like razors in his lungs.

'My blood flow's surging. Too much adrenaline. I can barely breathe. I need oxygen. Need—'

The monster lunged.

He dropped into a slide, feeling the wood splinters dig into his thigh as he narrowly avoided the tusks that ripped the air behind him.

Another charge.

Another dodge.

Each time, the beast came closer, leaving just a little less space in the ruined house.

Jaune's grip on the bat was slippery now.

Sweat and dust marred it. Maybe blood too.

He didn't know how long he could keep this up.

But he knew one thing for certain.

If it hit him, even once… it was over.

Jaune's legs ached now. Lactic acid was building up fast.

His legs felt like half-set jelly as he twisted away from yet another wild charge. The boar slammed into a corner of the house, tusks first, and the wall groaned under the impact before cracking and caving, trapping the beast.

The house trembled and dust fell from the ruined ceiling.

Jaune didn't wait for the beast to free itself.

He ran outside.

Bolted out the broken entrance that the creature had tore open, feet slamming against the warped porch wood before tearing down the pavement at full sprint.

He didn't even have a plan. He just needed space.

Space to move.

The house was too small, too confined. The trap with the couch—meant for the Beowolf—had been a bad joke against this new thing. Maybe it would've slowed the wolf. But against a tusked battering ram wearing debris like armor?

It hadn't stood a chance.

Neither would he, unless he moved.

The wind whipped against his face, sharp and cold as he dove behind one of the larger rusted-out cars on the block—some old SUV now covered in a film of rust and time. He ducked low, pressed his back against the twisted frame, and tried to steady his breath.

His whole body was shaking.

Adrenaline still ruled in his veins, like liquid fire.

He closed his eyes for half a second, trying to force calm into his chest.

'Okay. Okay. Thirty seconds. Just give me thirty seconds.'

He counted the breaths, gulping for air greedily.

One.

Two.

Three—

A sound cut through the night. Something wrenched and crunched and snorted.

Jaune opened his eyes.

The creature had exited the house—freed from the wreckage—and this time it wasn't dragging couch parts and drywall with it.

It had shed them.

Clean and red streaked bone-mask was now gleaming against the red haze of the broken moon. Its shadow-like fur rippling like smoke.

Jaune held his breath again, even though it pained him.

It wasn't looking at him.

But it somehow seemed to know where he was.

He saw it in the way the beast stopped.

In the way it lowered its head and immediately turned to the side where he was hiding.

It suddenly started pawing at the broken street with one sharp hoof.

A low, clicking snort echoed across the pavement.

Then the impossible happened.

Its whole body coiled into itself, like an armadillo, then spun.

It Spun?

The boar tucked its limbs and became a whirling nightmare, a giant living sawblade of tusks, spurs, and teeth.

It launched itself forward with all the momentum of a speeding truck!

Jaune's mind went blank.

"What the fuc—"

BOOM!

The car behind him exploded in a shower of torn steel and shrieking metal.

He barely dove clear—slamming into the ground with a sharp wheeze as a tire shot past his head and the boar skidded across its back across the asphalt, having flipped itself mid-spin into another heap of wreckage.

Jaune lay frozen for half a second, heart deafening in his ears.

The beast was tangled.

Truly tangled.

Caught in the crumpled metal frame of the destroyed vehicle, upside-down and writhing like a turtle in hell.

It roared, more inhumanely than before. Worse than anything he'd ever heard.

A scream of rage and pain cut through the sky like sirens.

Jaune moved.

He didn't think. He didn't blink. He just ran forward with his bat raised high, every nerve firing on instinct.

The creature writhed once more, trying to flip itself over.

Too late.

"DIE!" Jaune screamed as he brought the bat down onto its exposed underbelly.

CRACK.

The impact shuddered through his arms.

It squealed, flailing harder.

He struck again.

THWACK.

Again.

THWACK.

Again.

It twisted violently but couldn't free itself.

Jaune screamed—half from fear, half from primal adrenaline—and kept swinging. Over and over and over, the bat smacking into bone and sinew and corrupted flesh, until every muscle in his back screamed with effort.

Until he couldn't even feel the pain in his arms anymore.

Until the squealing stopped.

Until it dissolved.

With a final, shuddering breath, the creature fell still. Then, as if gravity forgot it, its body began to break apart—turning to ash, dark and curling, carried into the windless sky like embers.

Jaune stumbled back, chest heaving. Arms numb. He fell on the ground, back first and stared at the red tinged sky. 

His bat drooped in his grip, coated in gore and ash.

He watched the particles rise… and disappear.

Silence followed.

He had won.

Somehow, again… he had won.

Jaune laughed.

A short, breathless thing that broke out of him before he could stop it—half hysteria, half relief.

"Are you kidding me...?" he muttered, voice shaking. "I just—beat a monster boar... with a bat."

He wiped his forehead with a trembling hand and stared at the smear of blood on his skin.

"This place is insane."

Then—

Ding.

A soft tone rang through the air, clear and mechanical. It wasn't loud, but it cut through the stillness like a pin dropping in a silent room.

Jaune's eyes widened as red light flickered in the corner of his vision.

The System.

.

.

.

[Rank 0 beast, Boarbatusk, slain]

[Runes received: 10]

.

.

.

[Dream Authority exit granted]

[Cost: 1 Rune]

[Exit Nightmare?]

[Y/N]

.

.

.

Jaune blinked, breath catching in his throat.

"Ten runes?" he whispered. "That thing—boarbatusk—gave me ten runes again?"

Then the rest of it hit him.

An exit.

He could leave.

His heart leapt—until a flicker of hesitation soured it.

Last time, he'd barely survived. And that was after getting lucky. Twice now, he'd stumbled through death by sheer grit, desperation, and just enough dumb luck to scrape by.

This time, it had worked.

But next time?

He didn't know.

And now... he had the option to leave.

To opt out. He mentally pulled on his status window.

.

.

.

===

[Jaune Arc]

[Rank: 0]

===

Aura: 0

Will: 0

Body: 0

===

Runes: 19

===

.

.

.

His grip tightened around the bat again, eyes flicking up to the ruined street around him. The silence stretched once more—no movement, no snarls, no broken moonlight footsteps behind him.

Just the echo of his breathing and the faint glow of the System's interface before him.

He could leave.

But first... he had some choices to make.