MARVEL I AM DRAGON GOD

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The following days saw a subtle but profound shift in the training hall. 

While Ruby and Nora continued to revel in the joy of discovery, and Yang's aura manipulations grew ever more vibrant, Arthur's attention was largely focused on Jaune. 

The young leader, once plagued by self-doubt, now approached each session with a newfound determination, a glint in his eyes that spoke of the inner warrior awakening.

Arthur watched Jaune step into the shimmering illusion, a silent observer as the world around the blonde leader solidified into a battle-scarred landscape. 

The air crackled with the sounds of combat, the metallic clang of swords, the guttural roars of unseen Grimm, and the distant shouts of soldiers. 

This was no gentle introduction; Arthur had thrown Jaune into the thick of it (Sorry KSI but your song sucks, by the way Dirty is absolutely a come back. Go and listen to it), a strategic move to accelerate his growth.

"Remember, Jaune, This is a loop. Every time you fall, you learn. Every hit, every near miss, it all builds you up."

And fall Jaune did, countless times. 

He stumbled, he fumbled, he misjudged distances, and his aura, initially a clumsy shield, would often flicker and dissipate under the relentless onslaught of illusory Grimm and enemy combatants. 

Yet, each time, he reappeared at the starting point, a fresh wave of determination washing over him. 

Arthur observed, making mental notes, subtly adjusting the parameters of the illusion. 

He would increase the number of enemies, then reduce them, introduce new Grimm variants, or make the terrain more challenging. 

It was a delicate dance, pushing Jaune to his limits without breaking his spirit.

Hours bled into days within the illusion. 

Jaune's movements, initially hesitant, became fluid. His shield, once an awkward burden, became an extension of his will, deflecting blows with increasing precision. 

His aura, no longer a shout, began to hum with controlled power, manifesting as timely bursts of protective energy or enhanced strikes. 

Arthur saw the subtle shifts: the way Jaune instinctively adjusted his stance to brace for an attack, the focused glint in his eyes as he assessed multiple threats, the confident set of his jaw as he led his phantom comrades through desperate battles.

One afternoon, Arthur watched as Jaune, battered but unbroken, stood over the vanquished forms of several illusionary Beowolves. 

His breathing was heavy, his aura still faintly flickering, but there was a quiet triumph in his posture. 

He had led a small squad of illusionary soldiers, giving clear commands, protecting his flanks, and even improvising tactics on the fly. 

He was no longer just reacting; he was leading.

When the illusion finally dissolved, and Jaune stood blinking in the familiar training hall, he looked exhausted but invigorated. 

His hair was a mess, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but his eyes shone with a new clarity, a quiet confidence that had been absent just days before.

"Professor Arthur," Jaune said, his voice no longer shaky, but steady and strong. 

"I think I understand now. About the connection, about guiding it." 

He demonstrated, and a small, controlled flicker of aura danced around his hand.

Arthur smiled, a genuine, warm smile. 

"You've done well, Jaune. More than well. You've found the warrior within."

The newfound confidence in Jaune had a ripple effect, but it couldn't entirely overshadow the brewing storm between two other members of the team. 

The tension had been building subtly, like static electricity in the air, and it finally erupted during a break in training.

Ruby and Yang were practicing their aura control, gently coaxing feathers to dance in the air, while Blake, ever the quiet observer, watched from a distance. 

Weiss, meticulous as always, was polishing her Myrtenaster, her brow furrowed in thought.

Something happened and it made Weiss agitated and could not focus on the lesson like usual today.

Suddenly, Weiss spoke, her voice sharp, cutting through the comfortable silence. 

"White Fang…" 

She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, 

"A shame, truly. Such potential wasted on misguided extremists."

Blake stiffened, her ears hidden beneath her bow, flattening imperceptibly. 

"Misguided?" she echoed, her voice low, laced with a dangerous edge. 

"Is that what you call it, Weiss? Just 'misguided'?"

Weiss, oblivious to the shift in Blake's demeanor, continued, 

"Of course. Their methods are barbaric, their goals… Well, their goals are simply destructive. They only seek to harm, to incite fear."

"They seek equality!" 

Blake retorted, her voice rising, losing its usual quiet reserve. 

"They seek justice for centuries of oppression! They seek a world where Faunus aren't treated like second-class citizens, where they aren't hunted and persecuted just for existing!"

"And their answer is terrorism?" 

Weiss scoffed, her eyes narrowing. 

"Explosions? Innocent lives lost? That's not justice, Blake, that's anarchy!"

"What other choice did they have?" 

Blake's voice cracked, raw with emotion.

"When peaceful protests are ignored, when pleas fall on deaf ears, when the systems in place are designed to keep you down, what then, Weiss? Do you just lay down and die?"

Ruby, sensing the escalating tension, stepped forward. 

"Guys, please," she began, her voice small. 

"Let's not fight."

Yang, usually quick to defend her sister, looked troubled. 

"Yeah, this isn't helping anyone. We're a team."

But their pleas fell on deaf ears. 

The animosity between Blake and Weiss had reached a boiling point.

"Their methods are despicable!" 

Weiss declared, her voice laced with aristocratic disdain. 

"My family has suffered because of their 'justice'! My father's dust shipments, our reputation… it's all been targeted by your so-called freedom fighters!"

"Your family!" 

Blake spat, her composure completely gone. 

"Your family built its empire on the backs of Faunus labor! Your 'suffering' is a fraction of what they have endured for generations!"

Their argument devolved into a shouting match, words of accusation and bitterness flying back and forth. 

Ruby looked on, wide-eyed and helpless, while Yang clenched her fists, torn between her loyalty to her friends and her desire to stop the escalating conflict.

Just as the situation threatened to spiral into something physical, a calm, clear voice cut through the din.

"Enough."

Arthur stood at the entrance to the training hall, his presence commanding, his gaze unwavering. 

He hadn't raised his voice, but the single word, spoken with quiet authority, immediately silenced the argument. 

Blake and Weiss, still bristling with anger, averted their gazes, a flicker of shame crossing their faces.

Arthur walked slowly into the room. 

He stopped between Blake and Weiss, his expression thoughtful.

"This is not how we resolve disagreements," he said, his voice gentle but firm. 

"Arguments are inevitable, but hatred and resentment solve nothing. They only build walls where we should be building bridges."

He turned to Weiss. 

"Weiss, I understand your family's experiences have shaped your views. However, to truly understand, one must be willing to listen, even to perspectives that challenge your own. Blanket dismissals of an entire group, no matter how extreme some of their actions, prevent true understanding."

Then he turned to Blake. 

"And Blake, your passion for justice is commendable. But anger, left unchecked, can consume you. It can blind you to alternative solutions, and it can alienate those who might otherwise be allies. Violence begets violence, and true change often requires more than just righteous fury."

He paused, letting his words sink in. 

"We are here to learn, not just about our auras, but about ourselves and each other. We are a team, and a team cannot function if its members are at war amongst themselves."

Ruby and Yang nodded, relief evident in their expressions. 

Blake and Weiss remained silent, their shoulders still tense, but the immediate hostility had dissipated.

"Blake," Arthur said, his voice softening slightly, "could I have a word with you, in private?"

Blake looked surprised, then nodded slowly, a hint of fear in her eyes.

Arthur led Blake to a secluded corner of the training hall, away from the others. 

He sat down on a bench, gesturing for her to do the same.

"I sensed your pain, Blake," 

Arthur began, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.

"The anger you showed just now, it stems from a deeper wound."

Blake remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor, her hands clenched in her lap.

"The White Fang," Arthur continued, "they represent a struggle that many cannot comprehend. The struggle for acceptance, for basic dignity, for the right to simply exist without fear."

Blake's head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. 

"How… how could you know?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Arthur met her gaze, a small, knowing smile on his lips. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached up and touched his own ear. Not just his ear, but a small, almost imperceptible protrusion just behind it, hidden by his hair. It was a subtle gesture, one that most wouldn't notice, but to Blake, it was a revelation.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping even lower. 

"Because I, too, am one of your people, Blake."

And then, with a subtle shift in his aura, a change too quick for the eye to follow, a pair of magnificent, iridescent scales shimmered into existence just beneath his ear, subtle and beautiful, hinting at a hidden truth.

Blake gasped, her eyes widening further, then filling with tears. Dragon scales. 

He was a Faunus. A true dragon Faunus. 

A creature of legend, a being of power and mystery, yet he bore the mark of the discriminated, just like her.

"You're… you're a Faunus?" she choked out, a wave of emotions washing over her. 

Surprise, disbelief, and then, profoundly, relief.

Arthur nodded, the scales shimmering, then receding back into his skin, hidden once more. 

"I am. A true dragon, yes, but also a Faunus, just like you. And I know the pain of being judged for something you cannot change."

Blake's carefully constructed composure shattered. 

The years of carrying her burden alone, the secrets she guarded so fiercely, the fear of judgment, the isolation – it all came crashing down. 

Tears streamed down her face, hot and cleansing, a torrent of suppressed grief and fear.

"I… I ran away," she sobbed, her voice trembling. "From the White Fang, from Adam… I couldn't bear it anymore. The violence, the hatred… But I felt so alone. Like I had nowhere to go, no one who would understand."

Arthur reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was comforting, steady. 

"You are not alone, Blake. You never were. And you are not weak for choosing a different path. It takes immense courage to walk away from what you know, even when it's destructive."

He continued, his voice a soothing balm. 

"You carry a heavy weight, Blake. The burden of your past, the weight of your people's struggles. But you don't have to carry it all by yourself. There are those who will understand, who will support you, who will fight for justice in a different way. You have allies, Blake. More than you realize."

Blake continued to cry, but the tears were no longer solely of pain. 

They were also tears of release, of finding an unexpected confidant, a kindred spirit in the most unlikely of places. 

Arthur, the young professor, the master of "true magic," was also a Faunus, a true dragon Faunus, and he understood.

"You're safe here, Blake," Arthur said, his hand remaining on her shoulder, a quiet promise in his touch. 

"You don't have to hide who you are. And you don't have to fight your battles alone anymore. Not if you don't want to."

Blake looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with a new, fragile hope. 

For the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of peace. She had found someone she could rely on, someone who truly saw her, not just Blake Belladonna, the quiet student, but Blake Belladonna, the Faunus, the survivor, the one who had carried so much for so long. 

The shadows of her past still lingered, but in Arthur's presence, they felt a little less daunting, a little less isolating. 

A new dawn of possibility had truly begun.

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