Not a battlefield, not a training arena—an actual fashion runway, stretching into a glittering ballroom. Chandeliers sparkled overhead. A cheering crowd of high-society elites and fashion critics sat in rows, murmuring excitedly behind opera glasses and dust-powered monocles.
A deep voice echoed across the air:
"Welcome to the 79th Annual Vale Vogue Combat Couture Championship!"
Weiss blinked. She looked down.
She was wearing a combat gown—yes, a battle-ready designer ensemble woven with aura-sensitive threads, reinforced with Dust-laced silk. It flowed like moonlight and screamed "haute couture murder." Her rapier hung at her hip, glinting with pride.
"Perfect," she murmured. "I am ready."
"Next on the runway," boomed the announcer, "our challenger—Jaune Arc, debuting his original line: KnightFall!"
Weiss's confident smile froze.
'Excuse me, what?'
Spotlights exploded behind her.
Smoke hissed.
Music blared.
And out from the mist strutted Jaune Arc.
But this wasn't regular Jaune.
No—this Jaune was striding with the swagger of a supermodel-turned-Warrior King. His armor had been tailored into a high-collar military-style coat with glowing trim, a flowing blue cape, and he was wearing a cravat.
A cravat!
Weiss choked on air.
He reached center stage, did a pivot, and flicked his sword over his shoulder—effortlessly sending a barrage of sparkles across the ceiling.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING," Weiss screamed into the void.
The judges nodded solemnly, writing notes.
Lady Margot Dustfeather whispered, "Such poise. Such duality. He's redefining masculine aura couture."
Someone in the audience fainted.
"Combat test time!" the announcer called.
A Nevermore the size of a skybus descended from the ceiling, screeching dramatically.
Jaune didn't flinch. He drew his blade, leapt skyward in slow motion (somehow), and bisected the Grimm with a single spinning slash—without creasing his outfit.
The audience went wild.
Weiss's jaw dropped. "THAT'S NOT EVEN POSSIBLE!"
The Nevermore's remains exploded into confetti. Jaune landed in a superhero pose, then stood and blew her a kiss.
The crowd chanted:
"ARC! ARC! ARC!"
He was handed a golden trophy shaped like a sword in a champagne glass.
"Thank you," he said humbly, "I couldn't have done this without years of hard work... and also Weiss Schnee, for inspiring me by always being slightly ahead... until now."
Camera flash.
Crowd cheers.
Close-up of Weiss's face—utterly horrified.
She opened her mouth to protest, but suddenly she was standing on the runway in last season's armor, holding a foam sword and a bag of day-old bagels.
YOU ARE READING
Jaune's Resolve
AdventureWhat if the fall didn't lead to the Ever After... but to the past? When Jaune Arc fell in Volume 8, the world expected him to vanish into myth like so many others lost in the fight for Remnant. But fate had a different plan. Instead of falling into...
7 - Change
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