The elevator jingle faded as the doors slid open.
Hmm?
I couldn't help but notice the breathtaking panorama through my peripheral vision. The Emerald Forest stretched out below like a sea of green, while Vale glittered in the distance, a sprawl of light and civilization against the backdrop of mountains.
The office itself was on par with the view.
Green-gray tones dominated the space, with intricate clockwork mechanisms visible in the walls, ceiling, and even the floor. Countless interlocking cogs and gears moved with precision, creating a subtle background rhythm that somehow felt both mechanical and organic. The main window behind the desk was circular and functioned as a massive clock face, casting shifting patterns of light across the room as the enormous hands moved.
At the center of this mechanical symphony sat the Headmaster of Beacon Academy.
The man whose reputation preceded him by leagues. From this distance, I could make out his silver hair, the thin wire-rimmed spectacles, and the coffee mug in his hand. His posture was relaxed. The dark suit and green scarf completed an image that was somehow both understated and commanding.
He looked up as I stepped fully out of the elevator, his gaze settling on me. He offered a small, kind smile that, upon closer inspection as I approached, didn't quite reach those ancient eyes.
"Mr. Geas. Please, come in. Have a seat." He gestured to one of the comfortable-looking chairs arranged opposite his desk.
"Headmaster," I acknowledged, walking forward with a steady gait and taking the offered seat. It was surprisingly comfortable
"Would you care for some hot chocolate?" he asked, indicating a steaming pot on a small side table. "I find it soothes the mind and calms the spirit. Far superior to coffee, though I suppose that's a matter of personal taste."
"Yes, thank you," I replied, watching as he poured the rich brown liquid into two waiting mugs. The aroma was pleasant enough.
"I prefer to avoid adding anything to it. The flavor stands quite well on its own."
What a seemingly benign habit of a man I knew to be anything but.
He pushed one cup towards me, the ceramic warm against my fingers. "Please."
We both took a sip in silence, the quiet broken only by the soft clinking of ceramic on wood. The hot chocolate was excellent, rich and smooth. Thankfully, and perhaps surprisingly, it didn't seem to be spiked with Dust or whatever else they put in their coffee around here.
The atmosphere in the room was peaceful. Ozpin didn't seem inclined to speak just yet, content to simply observe, to let the silence stretch. I used the opportunity to glance around again, taking in the view from the massive circular window behind him. It was truly breathtaking. The clouds drifted, making the city lights twinkle like scattered gems. I almost didn't mind the mind games anymore. This memory alone could get me through two weeks of non-stop training, easily.
Ozpin finally broke the silence, a small smile playing on his lips. "Do you enjoy it, Mr. Geas?"
"Yes, Headmaster. It's quite good." I paused, then added, "And I won't air out the cat's past. Or that she's a Faunus, for that matter."
"Oh? How unexpected..." he said, seemingly amused. "Tell me, how did you deduce that was my next request?"
"I don't really forget faces," I said with a shrug "And she arrived alongside professor Goodwitch in the cafeteria, after missing the previous class. This behavior was clearly related to me. Given her situation and my knowledge of her past, she couldn't have asked for much else besides anonymity."
"Indeed..." Ozpin's smile widened slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, stirring his own hot chocolate slowly. "Oh. Well, I guess that's one matter taken care of, then." He shrugged, the movement casual. "It's good to see you take off the simpleton's mask, though, Mr. Geas. It doesn't really suit you, in my opinion at least."
"Sometimes we are forced by circumstance, Headmaster," I replied, taking another sip. "As you doubtlessly know better than most. Additionally, may I call you Professor? Headmaster is a bit of a mouthful."
He nodded. "Please do."
"Thank you, Professor."
Ozpin regarded me steadily, the slight amusement fading from his eyes, replaced by weariness. "You are right saying I understand the weight of difficult choices, Mr. Geas, and the masks one must sometimes adopt..."
He took another sip from his mug before continuing. "What are your thoughts on the White Fang, Mr. Geas?"
I considered the question, weighing my response.
"They are adepts of 'desperate times call for desperate measures', believing theirs is the only path remaining for faunus to attain their goal of... equality, I suppose? I am not a Faunus, nor am I oppressed, so I wouldn't know that particular feeling. Whether it would push me to become a willing terrorist is a question I'll never know the answer to."
"A very diplomatic answer, I see… A tad unexpected, given the grief you caused to them." Ozpin hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic of his mug.
"But tell me, Mr. Geas, do you believe Miss Belladonna deserves a second chance? To shed her own past, to forge a new future here at Beacon?"
"Yes, Professor. I believe everyone deserves a second chance. An eye for an eye makes the world go blind, after all."
Ozpin's eyes crinkled at the corners, a faint smile returning. He stirred his hot chocolate again, the spoon making small, rhythmic circles.
"Very true words, Mr. Geas. Very true. But I do get the distinct feeling you are lying through your teeth this time."
"Indeed, Professor. It was a complete lie. An eye for an eye might make the world go blind, but it often results in a useful tactical advantage."
"Then why would you say it in the first place, Mr. Geas?" His voice was mild, curious.
"Because I wanted to see your response, Professor," I replied, matching his candor. "Just like you, I suspect, wanted to see my response on whether Miss Belladonna deserves the chance you've given her."
Ozpin chuckled softly, a sound like dry leaves rustling. He seemed genuinely amused. "An interesting perspective. Does your reasoning take into account the difference in our standings, Mr. Geas? My position as Headmaster, yours as a newly enrolled student?"
"There is no point in asking questions we already know the answer to, Professor," I said simply. It wasn't insolence, merely a statement of fact. We both knew the power dynamic here.
Ozpin nodded, the amusement lingering in his eyes. "Fair enough." He set his mug down, his gaze sharpening slightly. "So, Mr. Geas, why would someone with such obvious shrewdness and a capacity for rational thought pretend to be… feral and unhinged for the past seven years? Why cultivate a reputation that resulted in you being ostracized?"
My smile faded, and I met his gaze directly, the same way I had looked at Goodwitch just minutes ago.
"Professor…" I paused, letting the air grow heavy. "Who says I was pretending?"
His eyes sharpened behind his glasses.
In that instant, the air in the room shifted, grew heavy, oppressive. Ozpin didn't move, not visibly, but I felt it. His aura bloomed outward, a silent, crushing pressure. And beneath that pressure, I felt it—the cold, sharp edge of the scythe of death hanging directly over my head. If my chances against Goodwitch might barely exist, against Ozpin they were nil. He could end me here, now, if he so wanted it.
But I didn't flinch. Not one bit.
We stayed like that for a long moment, the silence stretching taut.
Then, Ozpin reached for his mug again, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his hot chocolate.
"I see," he said finally, his voice regaining some of its earlier warmth, though the intensity in his gaze remained. "It appears you are right, Mr. Geas. This… behaviour you seem to have ingrained within yourself… is indeed a fundamental part of you now." He paused. "Is this shrewdness you now possess a new addition, then? A byproduct of your… experiences?"
I lowered my gaze, letting the pressure ease. "I always possessed it, Professor. I just didn't wish to seem even more threatening than I already did. Coupling it with my reputation would have been… counterproductive."
Ozpin tilted his head. "If you wished to be non-threatening, Mr. Geas, why not make a genuine effort to temper yourself? You seem intelligent enough to understand that few innate characteristics cannot be tamed, or at least guided, by higher reasoning."
"Because it would be dumb, Professor."
"Dumb?"
"Indeed." I leaned forward slightly, "Do you know how my semblance works, Professor? Truly know?"
Ozpin settled back in his chair. "I know what you told your previous instructors, Mr. Geas. The official reports on your student file. But given your exploits in Atlas, I presume you weren't entirely truthful in those accounts."
He reached for a scroll on his desk, activating it with a tap of his finger. A holographic display flickered to life, showing text and data. He began to read from my file, his voice calm and measured.
"Drago Geas. Semblance: Copycat. The power to copy and use weaker versions of other people's semblances. These copied semblances become stronger by… analyzing the original semblance more and more during combat." He paused, looking up. "The only way to analyze a semblance is fighting against the semblance's owner. Is this correct so far?"
"Basically," Not at all.
"I see," Ozpin continued. "A copied semblance has three power levels. Level 1: 1% power, uses one hundred times more aura than the original. Level 2: 10% power, uses ten times more aura. Level 3: 25% power, uses four times more aura."
And the fourth level uses half.
He scrolled down the file. "The report also notes these levels could be described as bottlenecks, as after each one, the analysis process becomes exponentially harder, requiring increasingly more time to attain." He looked up again, his gaze piercing.
"Is that it, Mr. Geas? Is that the full extent of your ability, as you described it previously?"
"Indeed, Professor, this is basically it."
Ozpin closed the scroll, the hologram flickering out of existence. His expression grew serious.
"Then why such a gung-ho attitude, Mr. Geas, even against people who hadn't discovered their semblance yet? Why fight so relentlessly, why antagonize your fellow classmates in your previous schools so much so that they attacked you daily, often in groups? I am told that if it weren't for a healing semblance you copied early on, you would have died more than a few times."
He leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. "Surely that level of self-endangerment is irrational, even for someone with your… inclinations."
I smiled, a genuine one this time, the kind that rarely reached my eyes.
"Well, Professor," I said, my voice dropping slightly, leaning in as if sharing a confidence. "What if I told you… that everyone in this world, every single soul whom has had their aura unlocked… eventually gets a semblance?"
Ozpin's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. "I beg your pardon?"
"Half of them are easily seen. Active semblances. The ability to manipulate glyphs, to teleport, to generate explosions, to control emotions. Flashy, obvious. But the other half… are passive. Subtler. Some increase aura levels, others enhance reflexes, heighten hearing, grant increased physical strength, accelerate regeneration, provide minor luck boosts, and so on and so forth. You already know this, of course, being as old and wise as you are, that not all semblances are overt." I paused, letting that sink in.
"But some… some are weaker than others. At least in the beginning. So weak that they fly completely under the radar, manifesting as nothing more than a slight edge, an inexplicable talent. And the Huntsman who possesses it wonders where his semblance is… when it is actually something as subtle as the ability to jump twenty percent higher than his training and aura would indicate, or the capacity to heal slightly faster than average."
Ozpin was silent, his eyes fixed on me, the amusement and casual demeanor completely gone, replaced by an intense, calculating stare. I remained silent as well, letting the weight of my words settle between us.
Finally, he spoke, his voice thoughtful. "You were after these 'weak' passive semblances." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"This is how you went from a middling student with low aura reserves and relying mostly on basic techniques to what you are now… And the more you live, the more you fight, the more people you encounter, the stronger you will become." He leaned back again, his gaze completely different now, filled with a mixture of awe, speculation, and something akin to apprehension.
"Your semblance was never truly about versatility, was it, Mr. Geas? It was about perpetual growth."
"Haha, you give me too much credit, Professor." I shrugged. "To give an estimate, passive semblances are a hundred times harder to analyze for me than active ones. They are so subtle, so deeply ingrained, that copying them requires an immense amount of focused observation during peak stress. The gods know balance, do they not?"
Ozpin's expression returned to his previous, more controlled demeanor, though the depth of understanding in his eyes remained.
"Yes, Mr. Geas. I can tell you speak the truth. You wouldn't risk revealing such knowledge before being certain you possessed the power to defend it, otherwise. Not even to me." He took another slow sip of his hot chocolate. "As it is, you still possess the potential to be one of the strongest Huntsmen to ever live. Should I even bother asking why you hid the full extent of your semblance from Atlas? I'm sure they would have bent over backwards to strengthen you, to utilize you, instead of treating you like a rabid dog to be thrown far, far away."
I took a sip of my hot chocolate, ignoring the insinuation and the question. I would have been either killed or brainwashed. Even worse, they might have discovered the full extent of my semblance.
"A remarkable talent," Ozpin murmured, his voice low, seemingly genuinely impressed despite everything. "And potentially very dangerous, in the wrong hands." His gaze sharpened, turning piercing once more. "Would you consider yourself to be the wrong hands, Mr. Geas?"
"I consider myself the only hands, Headmaster," I replied, meeting his gaze evenly, my voice firm. "And I believe I have a far better understanding of what to do with this ability than anyone else."
"Perhaps," Ozpin said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
He chuckled softly again, a knowing sound. "This conversation is truly enlightening, Mr. Geas. You are not what your file, or even Glynda's assessment, suggested. But let me ask you one more question, one that will perhaps define our understanding of each other going forward." He set his mug down, his expression turning serious, searching.
"What is your purpose in this life, Mr. Geas?"
"To be better than yesterday, Professor."
Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "A noble goal, to be sure, if a bit vague, but it does match your semblance's inherent nature..." His eyes bored into mine, the ancient weariness replaced by an intense scrutiny. He was searching, assessing, and I had the distinct feeling that he would know, instantly and unequivocally, if I lied.
"But what would you sacrifice for it?"
"My life," I replied, without a second thought.
"Ohh," Ozpin said softly, a note of surprise in his voice. "Decisive. Ruthless, one might say. But what about lives that aren't your own?"
"Why would I wish for anyone's death, Professor?" I asked, as if genuinely curious why he would even suggest it.
"I can't fight a corpse. I can't gain their knowledge and learn from their skills." I paused, choosing my words carefully, lest I fuck this up.
"No one I ever fought in Atlas was actually killed. Merely… incapacitated. And temporarily, at that."
In Atlas at least...
Ozpin's expression tightened slightly. "'Temporarily incapacitated' to the point of requiring extensive hospitalization and aura regeneration treatment, Mr. Geas. All for the sake of your growing power. While you provided me with context, and I no longer think of you as sadistic individual..." He joked but there was no amusement in his tone "Our actions shape our character, and it troubles me to see you so willing to hurt your fellows for personal gain."
"It was never about hurting others, Professor. It was about pushing them to improve themselves. Atlas prefers cookie-cutter soldiers. They see anything outside their rigid parameters suboptimal at best and an outright threat at worst. My methods were… effective. They pushed people to adapt and improve, or to be trampled underneath. In a world like ours, facing the Grimm daily, isn't that a necessary lesson?
Ozpin regarded me steadily, his expression unreadable.
"There is a difference, Mr. Geas, between pushing someone to improve and pushing someone into a grave."
"A fine line, perhaps," I conceded, "But one I am very careful not to cross. Intentionally."
"We shall see, won't we?" Ozpin said, leaning forward again, the casual demeanor returning, though the underlying seriousness remained.
"Beacon, Mr. Geas, is a place for learning. Not just about combat, but about cooperation, about leadership, about finding one's place in the world." His gaze was unwavering. "You will be part of a team here. You will learn to rely on others, and they on you."
"I understand, Headmaster."
"Do you?" Ozpin challenged gently, his eyes searching mine. "Or do you merely understand the words I am saying, recognizing them as a requirement?"
"I understand the requirement, Headmaster," I amended. "And I will endeavour to fulfill it."
"Endeavour is a good start," Ozpin said, his gaze lingering on me. Assessing, judging.
"Mr. Geas, you have revealed that you possess a power that could be a great boon to humanity."
Or a threat remained, of course, unsaid.
The air in the room grew heavy again, the weight of his words settling between us.
"I came to Beacon to become a Huntsman, Headmaster," I stated, my voice clear and steady, meeting his gaze head-on. It was the truth. Not the whole truth, but the truth nonetheless.
The old man studied me for a long moment, searching my eyes, probing for any hint of deception.
"I believe you, Mr. Geas," he finally said, a flicker of something in his gaze. "For now."
He leaned back, picking up his mug once more, the tension in the room easing slightly, the subtle pressure lifting. "Very well. You are here at Beacon. Your team will be assigned shortly. I trust you will make the most of this opportunity. And Mr. Geas?"
"Headmaster?"
"Try not to incapacitate too many of your classmates in sparring. Professor Goodwitch is rather fond of the infirmary staff, and I prefer not to deal with the paperwork." He winked.
A smile touched my lips, mirroring his. "I'll do my best, Headmaster."
"See that you do," he said, taking another slow sip of his cup.
"Then I hope this to be the beginning of a beautiful collaboration, Mr. Geas." He extended a hand across the desk.
I reached out and met his grip, the touch firm as stone.
"Thank you, Headmaster."
"I look forward to seeing you perform in Professor Goodwitch's class," Ozpin said, his gaze unwavering. "Perhaps you can show her that her initial assessment of your… proclivities… was slightly off the mark."
"I'll try not to disappoint,"
As I turned to leave, I caught his reflection in the glass of the massive clock face—still watching me, still assessing.
The elevator doors closed behind me, and I descended from the clockwork tower, biting my tongue so hard that blood gushed out. All just to keep myself from laughing. It was so ingrained in these people's minds that semblances were unexplainable that nobody ever tried to understand the true nature of my semblance. Nobody cared about the how...
As the elevator descended, I felt a small shift in my soul, and half of my aura immediately disappeared... but for a second, I felt the time around me slowing down. The elevator jingle played in slow-motion for a single second, though it felt like two to me.
Time manipulation, huh?
Thank you, wizard man, truly...