Chapter 1: Departure
To my esteemed father,
In the early days of the rule of Emperor Justinian and Empress Theodora, there was a riot in the old city of Constantinople. Tens of thousands of the citizens of Constantinople turned against their Emperor and attempted to raise a relative to the former Emperor, Hypatius, to the throne. Fearful of the peasant mob rioting through the city, Justinian retreated to his palace, all the while his advisers begged him to take the royal treasury and flee.
Mayhaps he would have fled if Empress Theodora had not chosen to speak up, but speak she did, and with her speech the course of history was defined.
"My lords, the present occasion is too serious to allow me to follow the convention that a woman should not speak in a man's council. Those whose interests are threatened by extreme danger should think only of the wisest course of action, not of conventions.
"In my opinion, flight is not the right course, even if it should bring us to safety. It is impossible for a person, having been born into this world, not to die; but for one who has reigned it is intolerable to be a fugitive. May I never be deprived of this purple robe, and may I never see the day when those who meet me do not call me empress.
"If you wish to save yourself, my lord, there is no difficulty. We are rick; over there is the sea, and yonder are the ships. Yet reflect for a moment whether, when you have once escaped to a place of security, you would not gladly exchange such safety for death. As for me, I agree with the adage that the royal purple is the noblest shroud."
This is a simple quote, and being a highly educated man yourself, I am certain you will have no difficulty deciphering it, but I will nonetheless explain it for my own benefit.
Empress Theodora is expressing a point of view held by many great men. All men must die, so it is best to die nobly.
Preliminary research had told me that every day, on Sanus alone, 7,452 people die. That is one person approximately every twelve seconds. Of those 7,452 people, how many of their names do you know? Very few, if any, one would imagine.
Some blathering imbecile once told me that while I might not know them, they would surely have their own mourners. He launched into an idiotic spiel about how everyone has people who loved them. That the people in question had families of their own. Fathers, brothers, children, and so forth.
To this I replied, "Can you tell me the name of your great-grandfather?" He could not.
"Your great-great-grandfather?" No reply.
"Any ancestor?" Silence was my answer.
It seemed to me that a life unremembered had nor value, and loved ones don't amount to much at all in the face of death. Eventually, those you leave behind will pass on as well and then you will be well and truly forgotten.
This seemed to be an abhorrent and altogether unacceptable fate, and even at the tender age of eleven, it was something I naturally recoiled from. Father, it is not death that I fear.
I fear oblivion.
All of our ancestors are dead, yet none of them are forgotten. Their legacy lives on in their deeds, and their kleos is eternal even if their bodies are not.
At age eleven I had decided that the fate of oblivion was not for me, and so I went to you and asked to be trained in the ways of the warrior. For generations our family had produced peerless heroes, and I desperately wished to join their ranks. I was certain you would not refuse me.
I had even thought, foolishly perhaps, that you would be proud of me for seeking to uphold our families legacy.
I was wrong.
Instead, you sat me down, and told me that of my siblings, I was the only male, and therefore your principle heir. When my sisters would eventually marry, they would take their husbands names. When they had children, their spawn would bare the Arc name.
If I were to die, House Arc, this glorious house of heroes, would die with me, in name if not blood.
I could not be allowed to die, and as such I would be kept here, within the walls of our city where I was safe. I would be granted a fine civilians education before marrying a girl with a suitable pedigree and breeding another generation of Arcs.
With this, you would condemn me to never know the glory of a proper death. A warriors death. Instead you would sentence me to a slow one, within the gilded cage that this estate has become. I would die at eighty, frail and weak, with no accomplishments to my name.
Given the intro of my letter, I am sure you can see why this plan would be objectionable to one such as I?
And yet at eleven I had no recourse for this grave wrong you have done to me. I could not train without a proper instructor to teach me how to fight. I could not flee and pursue my dreams by myself because of my lack of resources. As my parents you had near absolute powers over me, and so I was forced to obey despite my dearest wishes otherwise.
Over the past three years though, I've been saving like a miser, preserving every penny I could, all for the sake of my dreams.
It is at this point that I feel as though I should inform you that I have stolen Crocea Mors, the sword of Julius Arc, from the armory. This in addition to the four hundred lien I have saved up, as well as the backpack full of supplies I have put together will have to serve me well.
Jaune cut himself off there, looking down at the letter he wrote with a frown on his face before sighing and tearing it to shreds. He then tossed those shreds into the roaring fireplace he was penning his letters besides. He watched dispassionately as the fourth of his attempts to craft a proper farewell letter curled up on itself as the flames devoured it with hungry licks.
He couldn't allow any evidence that he was embarking on a journey to be a hero for anything other than selfless reasons remain after all, and he had been much too honest in this one.
A frequent problem with him, Jaune could readily admit. His desire to brag and boast often got the better of him. It was a trait that he would have to carefully control, lest he give the game of heroics away.
Jaune may not have had a solid plan for becoming a hero as of yet, but he did have the trappings of one. Almost without meaning to, he tapped out a rhythm on the parchment in front of him as he recounted the steps of it.
Once Jaune had resolved himself to pursue the path of a hero, he had decided to study the heroes of old. If someone managed to craft a myth of themselves that had endured for millennia, even as civilizations and empires collapsed due to the Grimm onslaught, surely they were worth studying. He hoped that if he found out their secrets, he would be able to recreate their feats and emulate their kleos.
While he was prepared for long grueling work, he was delighted to find that the research would actually take very little work on his part.
The Hero's Journey, or the Monomyth Story Structure, contained all the answers he needed. Created by Joseph Campbell, the Monomyth noted the similarities between myths of different cultures and tentatively offered that there were seventeen total stages that every good, enduring, hero story followed. These seventeen stages could be grouped up into three acts. Act 1 was The Departure or Separation, Act 2 was Initiation, and Act 3 was Return.
The first five steps were in Act 1. The very first one was a 'Call to Adventure.' A reason why the hero needed to depart on his quest. A crisis would do nicely, like the Grimm attacks that seemed to be... picking... up...
Eyes widening, Jaune congratulated himself and started to write once more.
To my most noble father,
Responsibility is made up of two words. Response and ability. In light of the recent Grimm attacks on the outlying villages, I believe that is the responsibility for all men with the ability to help to do so...
And so Jaune wrote, words flowing from his pen like shit flowed through a sewer. While writing, he was sure to seem reluctant to take on the role of a hero, which was actually part two of Act 1. 'Refusal of the call.'
No good hero should look like he wants power, and there needed to be a big production about them resisting getting power. You only needed to look at the top franchises to know the truth of the matter.
Look at Harry Potter, who was portrayed as a hero didn't want his fame and power, and would gladly exchange it for a loving family. Look at Spider-Man with his bullshit, "With great power comes great responsibility." Look at all those rom-coms about religious teens. You know they are going to fuck, but they needed to be seen desperately trying to resist for anyone who might be watching.
Like those teens, Jaune knew what he wanted, but he sure had to seem reluctant.
Next, Jaune did as all great heroes did, and lied some more. The third stage of Act 1 was 'Meeting the Mentor.' If Jaune recalled correctly, Wikipedia had this to say about the third stage: "Once the hero has committed to the quest, consciously or unconsciously, his guide and magical helper appears or becomes known. More often than not, this supernatural mentor will present the hero with one or more talismans or artifacts that will aid him later in his quest. Meeting the person that can help them in their journey."
Jaune had to think on this one a while, mainly because he could go two ways with this. The first, more reasonable, way that occurred to him was to say that he had gone into town and met an old retired hunter who taught him how to fight.
The problem with this is that once Jaune got the fame that he was looking for, people would look for this mysterious mentor of his, and if said mentor didn't exist... well that would be a problem wouldn't it?
As such, Jaune went with a more esoteric route.
As I lay in bed that night, pondering over the dilemma I had found myself in, torn by my desire to aid those less fortunate than I but unsure of my ability to do so, a ghost appeared before my very eyes. A ghost that, to my astonishment, I recognized from the portraits littering our halls.
I was visited by the spirit of our ancestor, Julius Arc-
And so Jaune went on, writing in length of how he spoke to Julius, who consoled and advised him on his decision. Once Jaune had finally resolved himself to becoming a hunter and saving as many lives as he could, Julius lead him to the location of his sword and shield. Just before he could pick it up, Jaune woke up, back in his bed.
Wanting to ensure that the dream was just a dream, Jaune retraced the steps he had taken in his dream, going through spots of his manor he had never been through, and much to his 'astonishment,' the sword was exactly where it had been in his dream.
How was he supposed to take it other than as a sign that some higher power wanted him to be a hero?
Chuckling to himself, Jaune glanced at his now completed letter, confident that it hit all the right notes. Any stranger reading this would be given the impression of a well rounded, humble, boy. Respectful and reserved, he chose to reluctantly engage in self sacrifice for the betterment of the many.
Personally, Jaune thought his handling of stage 3 was masterful. The religious valued faith, and as such made a virtue of not thinking too hard. Jaune was fairly certain that they would take this as a sign that he was set on his path by the divine. By saying it was all a dream though, Jaune had left himself enough wiggle room not to be seen as a nut-job by the not so religious.
Either way, with a single letter, Jaune had completed three steps out of seventeen, all without leaving his room. Maybe being a hero wouldn't be so hard after all. Before sealing the letter, Jaune made sure to take very clear pictures of the letter on his scroll and further backed it up on a USB drive. As a final precaution, he saved it on one of his social media accounts, and set it to private so that only he could view the letter.
It would hardly be a good story if no one read it, now would it?
Only after this was done did Jaune seal the letter and place it on his desk. He had no worries about his family finding it prematurely, for they would all be gone on vacation for the next three days. By the time they returned, he would be long gone.
Before Jaune left, he made sure that he had everything he needed. First were the basic necessities, food, shelter, and clothing.
Firstly, for food, Jaune carried two liters of water as well as a water bottle. Besides this he bought a lot of power bars and granola. Jaune really was banking on him being able to learn to hunt food. He had watched a lot of YouTube tutorials on the topic, but had no real experience in the field and so would have to learn on the fly. The power bars and granola were their to tide him over until he did. Worst case scenario, he could buy some more food with the four-hundred lien he was carrying.
Next was shelter. Jaune wouldn't be taking any public transport once he exited the city and got into the wilderness, so he would have to carry his pack with him at all times. The two liters of water alone were pretty heavy, and the more things he added to his pack, the heavier it would be. As such, Jaune reluctantly forgoed using a tent, instead carrying only a sleeping bag. In an effort to avoid freezing, he had read up on how to set up a campfire, and bought himself a lighter, just in case.
Finally, on the topic of clothing, Jaune had studied the secrets of stealth and camouflage closely. Once he was certain that he knew what counted as camouflage, he deliberately ensured that nothing in his wardrobe even vaguely counted as such. Everything in his wardrobe was painted in colors that would stand out in the forest, ensuring that everyone around him could see him.
His outfits were such that even a deliberate attempt to avoid finding him was bound to fail.
White, blue, silver, and red were good for plenty. Blending into a forest was not one of those things.
It seemed like a reasonable decision when one took into account that Jaune wanted attention. Sure it might draw enemies to him and lower his chances of survival, but if he cared about that, he would just stay home.
The second part of his pack was the more technologically advanced portion. First was his scroll, and next was the SoloShot 3 camera, his birthday present for the last year. The SoloShot had a function that allowed it's mount to swivel to track an armband that Jaune would be wearing, allowing the camera to capture footage of combat. This would give Jaune proof of his deeds, which he would need because grimm corpses dissolved once they died.
Even if Jaune did manage to kill an impressive grimm, he would be unable to prove that he did so without a body or a witness to back him up, so the camera was of utmost importance.
Jaune eventually intended to write a book on his deeds, and when he did write it, he wanted to have as much proof as possible for the deeds he did do in order to cover up the bits that he pulled out of his ass.
The very last things he added were batteries and fire dust for power supplies, his chargers, headphones for music, and a flashlight for night travel.
Briefly Jaune looked out his window, into the dark night. He wondered to himself whether setting out right now, like he originally intended, would be a good idea. Surely it would be better to set out in the morning when he was well rested?
The downside to that plan was that his family was only gone for three days and the longer he waited, the less miles there would be between him and his father when he got back.
With a frown on his face, Jaune contemplated this predicament before concluding that fortune favored the bold.
He treated himself to a final meal before putting on his anti-camouflage gear and strapping his sword to his back.
With everything he could think of doing done, Jaune set off for the front door, but before he reached it, he decided that there was actually one last thing to do. His adventure deserved to start to a good song, one that really represented what he was trying to accomplish.
Briefly, he contemplated playing 'The March of Cambreadth,' a militaristic song about killing as many of the enemy before dying, but eventually he dismissed it. When he reported on the events of his adventure, Jaune was sure that he would report The March as the song he listened to, but in truth he had a much more fitting song in mind.
With a wide smile on his face, Jaune exited his home to the lyrics of one of his favorite songs. Perhaps it was providence that, just as Jaune was about to cross the threshold of the house, his favorite line in the song rang out.
Men of Harlech, onto glory,
This shall ever be your story.
Jaune had no problem making his way through the city. Given his age, his dramatic costume, and his weaponry, most citizens assumed that he was a student of a combat school, and so no one thought twice about him. Students were a common enough sight around here. It also helped that Jaune was leaving late at night, when few people were out to begin with.
A combination of those two factors allowed Jaune to make his way out of the city without being stopped once for being armed.
The fourth part of Act 1 was called, 'Crossing the First Threshold.' It would be completed when the hero would step onto the field of adventure for the first time, leaving behind everything he had once known to venture into a new and dangerous world where the rules and limits were unknown.
Jaune felt as though his stepping into the wilderness for the first time definitely counted. He was a city-kid stepping into a forest where anything and everything could be dangerous. There could be dastardly bandits around every corner, deadly creatures of grimm lurking in the shadows, and dangerous wild animals stalking him at any minute.
Despite all this, Jaune couldn't really bring himself to feel much of anything. With the gates of Sinia at his back, he knew that no bandit would dare commit a burglary this close to the city, and he was reasonably sure that the nearest dangerous animal would be further into the forest. Jaune was fairly sure that the Grimm wouldn't come this close either. It would have to be an act of monumental stupidity to get within range of the cities defense turrets after all.
No, everything dangerous was bound to be at least a few hours away from him.
In fact, all Jaune could really see were tree's, vegetation, and the occasional insect, all of which proved to be rather annoying as far as he was concerned.
As Jaune chose a random direction, wandering into the darkness of the forest without a second thought, he mused that when he told his tale, he would have to heighten the sensations of this moment. Perhaps a line reading, 'All at once, the enormity of the situation hit me. I was leaving behind the only home I had ever known to help people I didn't know. As I looked out into the pitch black darkness of the surrounding forest, where danger could lurk around any corner, I couldn't help but feel a creeping sensation of trepidation...'
Chuckling to himself, Jaune stalked onward, confident he would soon meet one of these grimm he had heard so much about.
Jaune told himself that the reason his heartbeat picked up at the thought was due to excitement.
The younger, weaker, creatures of grimm were mindless. No grimm valued their own life, but the older ones understood that there was a difference between spending your life and throwing your life away. The younger ones... Not so much.
When Jaune thought to himself that it would be an act of monumental stupidity to wander this close to the defenses of Sinia, he wasn't wrong, but he was wrong when he thought that the younger grimm, the ones too mindless to know better, wouldn't do it anyway.
Everyday, hundreds of Grimm died, trickling in by one's and two's into the kill fields set up by the Sinia defense teams, gunned down to the last, and still more would come. One such Grimm, a solitary Beowolf, had been wandering closer to Sinia, heedless of the danger it posed, and would have soon wandered into turret range and been gunned down.
Before that could happen, it smelled... fear.
The young Beowolf had never smelled something so sweet and succulent. Instinctively, saliva began to pool at the base of the Beowolf's mouth, trickling down from its gaping maw, staining its black fur. Red eye's gleaming, it set off, faster than it had gone before, when all that motivated was the indistinct, muddled, intangible fear of a thousand souls.
As fate would have it, Jaune, who was steadily moving away from Sinia would only encounter the Beowolf when he was well outside the range that Sinia monitored. There would be no help for him in this fight.
Jaune stared at the Beowulf with a mixture of terror and trepidation. Jaune breath hitched as his eyes made contact with the Beowolf's ruby red ones, malevolence shining.
Almost involuntarily, Jaune stepped back before rallying himself.
This was what he had signed up to fight? This was the weakest Grimm species looked like?
Jaune briefly wondered how the beast in front of him could ever be considered weak.
Even on all fours, the Beowolf was of a height with fourteen year old Jaune, and if it were to stand on it's hind legs, Jaune had no doubt that it would measure about six feet tall, towering over the now 5'1 Jaune. In addition to its height, Jaune could benchmark the Beowolfs body weight to be about 330 pounds, and from what he could see, it was made entirely of muscle.
While the Beowolf's height and muscle were intimidating on its own, they were fairly subtle. Jaune could tell that the height and weight meant nothing good for him, he lacked the experience to be able to pinpoint how fast and strong the wolf would be.
Given Jaune's untrained status, what really grabbed his attention were its 'weapons.' Its jaws and claws. Two rows of jagged teeth gaped open, foul drool pooling between them and dripping down to taint the forest floor. Its claws were long and sharp. Five of them adorned each of the beasts hands, and even with a glance, he could tell that even a casual swipe could tear open his jugular and end him.
The only tentative benefit that Jaune could pick out was that the Beowolves armor wouldn't help it in the slightest given how disjointed it was. Jaune would have to deliberately not aim for its flesh for the armor to come in handy.
It wasn't exactly a great victory, given that to attack, Jaune would have to get into rang of its claws.
The Beowolf, for its part, hadn't attack yet because it was too busy savoring the fear. With each second, the humans fear grew larger, satiating it to a degree and promising an even better treat when the Beowolf did attack. As such, it held back and didn't attack, giving Jaune the initiative.
And with this initiative, Jaune promptly threw away his shield.
Then, he started speaking.
When Jaune Arc was a child, his father, Roland Arc, would sit by his bedside and read him stories. When Jaune was really young, these stories would be of the simple sort. Roland would read out loud a picture book with Jaune looking on. It was an effort to get the baby to associate the letters with the pictures and sounds.
When Jaune got slightly older, old enough to understand what was being read to him, Roland made the choice to tackle more complex and relevant material.
Today, Roland was going to continue reading him the tale of Beowulf, the old epic poem. The poem told of how Beowulf, the hero, slayed an ancient Wolf Grimm by the name of Grendel, as well as the Grimm's unnamed mother. For this deed, every wolf grimm to come after would be called a 'Beowolf,' in honor of the hero.
Roland had just reached the part where the hero had reached the halls of Heorot, the castle under siege from Grendel.
With loud, clear, tones Roland read.
And standing on the hearth
In webbed links that the smith had woven,
The fine-forged mesh of his gleaming mail shirt,
Resolute in his helmet, Beowulf spoke:
"Greetings to Hrothgar. I am Hygelac's kinsman, One of his hall-troop.
When I was younger, I had great triumphs.
Then news of Grendel, Hard to ignore, reached me at home
Sailors brought stories of the plight you suffer
In this legendary hall, how it lies deserted,
Empty and useless once the evening light Hides itself under Heaven's dome.
So every elder and experience councilman
Among my people supported my resolve
To come here to you, King Hrothgar,
Because all knew of my awesome strength.
They had seen me boltered in the blood of enemies
When I battled and bound five beasts,
Raided a troll-nest and in the night-sea Slaughtered sea-brutes.
I have suffered extremes
And avenged the Geats (their enemies brought it Upon themselves, I devastated them).
Now I mean to be a match for Grendel,
Settle the outcome in a single combat.
And so, my request, O king of Bright-Danes, Dear prince of the Shieldings, friend of the people And their ring of defense,
my one request Is that you won't refuse me, who have come this far,
The privilege of purifying Heorot,
With my own men to help me, and nobody else.
I have heard moreover that the monster scorns
In his reckless way to use weapons;
Therefore, to heighten Hygelac's fame
And gladden his heart, I hereby renounce
Sword and the shelter of the broad shield,
The heavy war-board: hand-to-hand
Is how it will be, a life-and-death
Fight with the fiend."
As Roland concluded the nights story, Jaune exploded into questions, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Why did Beowulf spend so long talking about his own accomplishments? Doesn't it make him seem rather arrogant?"
Roland considered how to explain that to a five-year-old, before carefully replying, "Why do kids go to school?"
Jaune just stared at him perplexed. He had just started kindergarten, and while he didn't quite dislike it, he didn't quite understand the purpose of basic education either.
"Umm... so I can learn math and stuff," Jaune ventured at a guess.
"Very good Jaune," Roland said encouragingly, "and why do you need to know these things?"
"So..." Jaune trailed off, thinking really hard, before giving up.
"It's so you can get a job, right?" Roland prompted.
Seeing an east way out, Jaune eagerly nodded, "Yeah!"
Roland paused again, trying to figure out how to explain the job market to a child, before deciding it couldn't be done in a simplified manner. Instead he would explain the entire thing as he would to an adult, and trust that Jaune would be able to ask him for details and clarifications if he needed them.
"When you graduate from school, they give you a diploma. That's a piece of paper that serves as proof that you did graduate. Then when you apply for a job, you send in a resume, that's another piece of paper where you list out what you accomplished. You put down things like where you went to school, what clubs you were in, what jobs you did in the past-"
"What monsters you killed!" Jaune chimed in.
Deciding it was close enough, Roland said, "Exactly! Now, when your employer-" Roland cut himself off, deciding to instead try a different tactic.
"Let's say that I, as a hunstmen, decided that I wanted to be a guard for a company. I would write in to the company, and I would give them my resume. Then it would be up to the company to decide if they want to pay me to work for them."
Jaune nodded showing his understanding.
Hoping that Jaune actually did understand the concepts laid out, Roland continued, "Now think about this. Did Beowulf have a resume."
Jaune didn't answer, not sure what the correct response was.
"No, he didn't. He didn't hand the king a resume because, all the way back then, they didn't have resume's."
"Then how did people get jobs?" Jaune asked.
"They did what Beowulf just did. He was applying to be the hunter who brought down Grendel, so he stood up and listed their accomplishments. Because all knew of my awesome strength. They had seen me boltered in the blood of enemies when I battled and bound five beasts, raided a troll-nest and in the night-sea, slaughtered sea-brutes. I have suffered extremes and avenged the Geats. He was trying to say to the king, 'No need to worry, I've got this. I've killed deadly things before, I can kill one more now,' and in doing so, he was trying to reassure the people."
Then almost as an afterthought, he said the words that would change Jaune's life, "In the world we live in, it is extremely important to inspire and reassure those around you. It is in fact, perhaps the most important thing. Fear makes every situation worse, attracting Grimm and making the men around you more likely to flee. Many battles have been won by morale, so if you ever get into a bad situation where you're the leader, make sure you don't tell your subordinates. Keep calm and keep fighting. If your army maintains a cool head, it stands to reason that without reinforcements, the grimm will eventually lose."
Dubiously Jaune looked at him, "Does that really work?"
Roland looked surprised, "Of course it does. Why do you think medieval knights wore such colorful and distinguished uniforms? They knew it would attract attention from the enemy, but at the same time, it demonstrated their bravery and reassured the troops. Any man willing to ride into battle wearing neon orange has to have confidence that he is capable of winning the battle, or at the least, nor dying. Half the time they were right."
Glancing at the watch on the far wall, Roland noted the time. 10 pm. It was getting late, especially by the standards of a five-year-old.
"Just one more question. Then you need to sleep."
"Dad," Jaune said in an extremely grating, whiny voice, only to be silenced by a stern look from his father.
Looking mutinous for a second, Jaune nevertheless asked his question, "Why did Beowulf take so many men with him if he was going to just fight the monster himself?"
Chuckling, Roland answered, "Because your accomplishments don't count unless someone saw it or you have some other proof. Good night."
Kissing the top of his son's head, Roland tucked Jaune in and, walking to the far side of the room, he turned off the lights.
As Jaune slept that night, he dreamed of a great battle. One where he was surrounded by men, loyal to him, cheering him on as he fought against a foul Grimm with eerie red eyes.
Jaune wasn't sure why he was remembering the now. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was facing a Beowolf Grimm, named after the old hero, perhaps it had to do with his imminent demise, but nonetheless, the memory served to anchor him, and put his priorities back in order.
Priority one was, of course, to record the battle. If he died here, so be it, but if he lived, he wanted proof of his first kill. Reaching around to where his armband was, he hit the 'activate' and 'record' buttons in quick succession. The head of the camera, which was already poking out of his bag, blinked to life and started recording him.
Jaune then decided to drop his pack altogether, freeing him to fight without the cumbersome burden on his shoulder. Thanks to the camera's auto-track function, it would follow him and record the coming fight in good quality.
Then, even as he drew his sword and transformed its scabbard into a shield, Jaune started speaking.
"I am Jaune of Arc, heir to the glory of the Arc bloodline," he started with his most amazing accomplishment, being born an Arc, before continuing, "I see you have no armor of your own, neither bone nor steel, and so to gladden your heart, I renounce use of my shield."
Jaune promptly threw the shield of Crocea Mors off the side, before ending his speech with, "Now prepare to die."
Jaune was very aware that to the audience that would eventually see this fight, it looked like Jaune had committed a mixture of an act of stupidity and bravery. Some would argue that when already at a disadvantage, throwing away your shield in the name of fair play was a remarkably stupid. Others would argue that it was remarkably brave and chivalrous.
Jaune would argue that his shield was dead-weight.
As he had previously analyzed, the Grimm was close to six feet tall, less when crouched, and more than 300 pounds. If it were to lunge at him, Jaune wouldn't be able to block it anyway. Having 300 pounds of muscle ramming into him would knock him down, regardless of a shield.
Further, Jaune wasn't confident in his ability to block swipes from the Grimm either, though this had more to do with Jaune's abilities than the Grimm's. Corcea Mors weighed between four to six kilograms, or about 8 to 13 pounds.
Jaune didn't have the strength to move it rapidly in combat and he had no doubt that what little use that he did get out of it would tire him out rapidly.
Altogether, using the shield wasn't an option for him anyway so it cost him nothing to cast it aside. In fact, casting it aside allowed him to place both hands onto his sword, increasing the force with which he could swing it, and it allowed him to dodge more easily.
As a plus, he was sure that some would say that it made him look brave and chivalrous.
His piece being said, Jaune then proceeded to charge, which was met by the Beowolf counter-charging. When they closed the distance to a few yards, the Beowolf kicked off with its hind legs, launching itself in a trajectory that would lead to it coming down on Jaune's neck.
Jaune didn't like that plan very much and sidestepped clumsily. Instead of keeping the Beowolf in range of his weapon and counterattacking, Jaune stumbled backwards, breaking contact with the enemy. It may have taken him out of the Beowolf's attack range, but it also put Jaune out of the range at which he could attack the Beowolf.
Once, he had realized what he had done, a flare of annoyance spiked in Jaune. He wasn't happy about his own cowardice.
It was why, when the Beowolf charged at him again, Jaune decided to try to counter instead of dodging again. It was a decision that didn't pay off. Due to the Beowolf charging and not lunging, its feet stayed firmly on the ground, and when Jaune stabbed, slowly and clumsily, the Beowolf dodged with ease before rearing up on its hind legs and double swiping with its claws.
Jaune saw what was happening and tried to duck under the act, something he assumed he would be easy given that he was so much smaller than the Grimm. He was wrong.
When Jaune ducked, it was towards the Beowolf in an effort to keep it within his range. From there, he planned on making a follow up attack with his sword, securing a flawless victory. Sadly for him, he wasn't nearly fast enough to pull it off.
Instead, he ducked down under the first blow aimed at his jugular. The duck itself rounded his back and forced him to tilt forward precariously, resulting in him being completely unprepared for the second swipe, which landed on his traps, harshly ripping open his back.
As rivers of warm blood trailed down Jaune's gaudy uniform, it was only the reminder that the camera was still rolling that kept him from crying out in agony and humiliation. Jaune could feel the wound, deep as it was, and had little doubt it would scar. A sign of weakness for all to see.
No matter what Jaune would go on to accomplish now, it would be forever marred by the knowledge that Jaune Arc could be defeated. Even worse the beast that dealt the wound was a lowly Beowolf. Worse still was that the wound was on his back. In ancient times, warriors only got scars on their backs when the tried to run from combat, so back scars were considered signs of cowardice.
Jaune would have preferred to avoid being scarred at all, but if he had to take a wound, why couldn't it have been to somewhere more palatable? A back wound was just insult to injury.
From there, the battle just went downhill, and both Jaune and the Beowolf knew it. With his injury flaring in pain every time he moved, Jaune's reactions slowed further, resulting in him getting more injuries, compounding the problem. A curved wound on his thigh kept him from putting any weight on his right leg, a cut to the stomach kept him from bending, and so on.
The worst part of it was that as his wounds accumulated, his mind went back to all those superhero movies he watched, where having a bullet in their shoulder never kept the protagonist from executing advanced martial arts moves. They fought through the pain, and so Jaune believed that so should he.
The ends were mixed, with more faliures than sucesses.
As Jaune the hero was cut to shreds by the lowly Beowolf, the slime of grimm, a rage filled his heart, mixing with his sense of shame and humiliation like it so often did.
Was this the fate of Jaune of Arc, blood of heroes?
To be brought down by a mere Beowolf?
Every fiber of his being rebelled against such an idea, and yet he was powerless to change the course of the battle. Where his mind was willing, his body was incapable.
Jaune, faced with such an ignoble end, did the only thing he could. He raged against the accursed demon standing before him and charged, clumsily and unevenly, hampered by his wounds. The Beowolf held out a claw, almost lazily, expecting Jaune to try to dodge. When he did, the Beowolf would cut him down with its other arm.
What the Beowolf didn't expect was for Jaune to willingly gore himself on its claw in order to stab it in the face, knowing that if he were to do otherwise he would die anyway. His body rebelled against him the moment the cool touch of the bone white claw pressed against his abdomen, but Jaune ignored it, pressing forward even as the claw opened a new wound in his abdomen, before thrusting outward with Crocea Mors, cutting through the Beowolfs mask and coming out through the back of its head.
For a moment, the world froze. The two combatants stood stock still. Then, the Grimm crumbled to dust, leaving Jaune's abdomen to cry tears of blood freely, with nothing plugging the wound. With nothing else to keep him propped up, Jaune tilted forward before collapsing entirely.
He made a valiant attempt to get back up, using Crocea Mors as a prop, but every cell in his body screamed in protest of the decision. Jaune tried to push forward anyway, but the sword slipped out from underneath him, spinning away from him when he tried to grab it again.
Feeling pathetic, the proud hero lay on the ground staring up at the clear night sky above him, one hand placed over his largest wound, the one he took willingly on his abdomen. Even lying near stock still gave him little relief as lying on his back exposed his back wound, the very first he took, to the dirt of the forest floor, causing it to burn horribly.
"Can't die," Jaune muttered incoherently to himself, "Have to become a hero. Don't sleep. Hero. Gotta be a hero. Hero. Hero. Hero."
With every repetition of the word 'Hero,' his voice grew ever fainter. Even with how the world spun around him, Jaune knew if he fell asleep now, he wouldn't be getting up in the morning. He would pass away from his wounds during his sleep, in all likelihood. Jaune needed to get up and find something he could use to wrap his wounds, preferably after finding somewhere to clean them. Food would also be a nice way to get some energy back.
With all his energy spent and the world darkening around him, Jaune's coherent plan amounted to nothing.
He lay, muttering a single word, 'Hero,' over and over until he couldn't find it within himself to talk anymore. His mouth shut itself, and soon, his eyes followed.
I can't die. Not like this. Not to a Beowolf.
Contrary to Jaune's fears, he didn't die that night.
When he woke on the morn, it was to the shock of having a mostly healed body. His first thoughts were that perhaps a helpful stranger had found him and nursed him back to health. He had read about such things in the past in a few rom-coms.
A glance around disabused him of that notion. He was still lying on the forest floor and what sort of healer would just leave their patient lying there?
This glance around did draw his attention to a peculiar sight, however. There was a block of text, situated on a translucent blue screen, hovering right in front of his eyes.
Congratulations, you have awakened your semblance, press "Continue," to go to the next page.
Jaune stared at the screen in abject confusion. What was a semblance?
A significant part of him believed that he had hit his head after passing out and was now hallucinating. As such, the first thing Jaune did was reach out to the camera that had been rolling through the night and turning it off. Watching Jaune interact with hallucinations might not be something he wanted the history books to record.
It was only after the camera was turned off that Jaune hit 'Continue.'
Welcome to the tutorial. Last night, when you fought the Beowolf, you activated your aura and semblance.
Your aura is 'the light of your soul.' It is the mystic energy that allows hunters to fight at the level they do. Aura has four effects. The first is enhancing the users speed and strength. The second is acting as a force field. The third is healing any wounds that you've taken while your aura was down. The final component is giving you access to your semblance, a superpower unique to the user.
As of this moment, the third and forth components are most relevant.
When you fought the Beowolf last night, you did not have your aura activated. When it did activate, it was at full strength, so it was able to heal most of your injuries before running low. As of right now, you are almost entirely healed, though a few minor wounds remain. The aura you regenerate will be automatically be spent healing these injuries. Until you are fully healed, your aura point will remain at 0, and as such you won't have access to your enhance speed and strength, or your force field.
Jaune glanced up as two bars appeared in the top right corner of his vision, situated so that he could read the score even while facing straight ahead.
HP: 77/100
AP: 0/1000
What was he, a video game character? Despite how odd it felt to see his life represented in a numerical hp bar, Jaune continued reading.
As previously mentioned, the semblance is a unique superpower fueled by your aura. For every person, the semblance has a 'core,' and an 'expression.' The core is the basic function of a persons semblance, while the expression handles things like the visuals of the semblance, and how the semblance interacts with the user.
As an example, let's say that a persons core semblance is super speed, their semblance will always deal with enhancing their speed, but depending on their life experiences up till that point will affect the accompanying visuals. For some, their bodies will turn to a smoky substance while they run, for others, they will leave an after image. For others, they will turn into a tornado of rose petals, and so forth.
The core of your semblance is 'Energy Absorbtion.' To put it simply, you can absorb energy from others before spending the absorbed energy to enhance facets of yourself.
The expression of your semblance is modeled after a RPG video game. We can explain several things now. What would you like to read about first?
Click to select 'Title System.'
Click to select 'User Growth System.'
Click to select 'Assessment System.'
Jaune was sure that all three were important, but after the debacle that was his first fight, he felt as though he really should look into getting stronger. If he had that much trouble with a solitary Beowolf, a grimm that normally hunts in packs... Well, priorities had to be maintained.
You have selected the user growth system.
The user growth systems, breaks your body down to its components and quantifies them as 'stats.' Your stats are: strength, dexterity, vitality, intelligence, and wisdom.
Strength determines how much you can lift. Visually, this increases your body mass, in both fat and muscle. A bear, for instance, would have a very high strength stat.
Dexterity determines your speed. This is done by decreasing the body fat you have and increasing the muscle. Unlike strength, the muscle increases for dexterity are focused on the legs and the lower back. In the legs, increasing dexterity increases the prevalence of fast twitch muscles. It also improves your bodies reflexes by improving the nerve connections in your body.
Vitality works around the fact that you are a squishy human by improving the force field aspect of your aura. As you grow in size, you will be able to lose more blood without dying, naturally increasing your health bar. This is why a human can afford to lose more blood than a gold fish. It should be noted that taking a wound to a vital area such as the heart or brain without aura will automatically reduce your health to zero regardless of your size. There is no other way to increase your health bar other than growing.
Points in vitality will increase the quantity of your aura. Vitality will also improve your immune system to ensure you don't get sick. Unlike strength or dexterity, vitality is not visible.
Intelligence increases your memory by enhancing your hippocampus, as well increasing the number of glial cells in your brain. This may also result in a slight increase in reaction speed. Functionally, intelligence will allow you to learn skills faster. Every point in intelligence will increase the speed at which you learn skills.
Wisdom is the ability to recognize patterns, as well as decide when to use a certain skill.
As Jaune read through the stats, he acknowledged he would have to focus heavily on the strength and dexterity stats heavily if he wanted to look the part of a hero. It was probably a questionable decision, given that the earlier he invested in intelligence, the more he would get out of it, but it was a decision he was willing to make for the sake of appearances.
The fact that he wasn't strong enough to beat a Beowolf as he was now also played a role in his decision.
Every level up, you gain five stat points, as well as a perk point.
The best way to explain this is as follows. Say for instance you kill a lamb that just grazed on grass. The grass that it grazed on is broken down in its body and turned into ATP, or energy. This energy allows for growth and the maintenance of bodily functions.
When you kill it, you absorb all the ATP in its body. Most of it is turned into stat points. Energy that physically changes your body.
E= mc^2
Energy can be transformed into mass in order to strengthen your body by adding muscles, or more delicately to make new cells in your brain.
Part of that energy is stored however into a perk point.
Perks are specifically tailored to your desires… to an extent. Neither energy, nor mass can be created or destroyed, so when you 'request' a perk, the game automatically attempts to find a way to accomplish the task.
So for instance, if you wanted a mini map, the game would have to map the surrounding area in relation to yourself. One way to do this would be to use a bat like echo location, but the echolocations aren't free. They cost energy.
The game would determine how much energy echolocation mini maps cost before presenting you a price tag for your desire.
Jaune couldn't help but snort. His entire semblance was looking like it was built around a meme. Kill shit, git gud.
Continue to 'Title system?'
Continue to 'Assessment Section?'
Jaune selected the 'Assessment Section' next.
There are two types of stats. Raw and effective.
Aura is a force multiplier. It doesn't just increase your strength or speed, it multiplies them many times over. It also provides a second bar, your aura bar, that must be depleted before you can be injured.
Strength: Hafþór Björnsson, the world record holder for the dead lift, can carry 1,041 pounds for a few seconds. He has not awakened his aura, as regulations for civilian competitions demand. Every point in strength raises your strength by 20 pounds. This gives him a raw and effective strength of 52.05. Aura, upon awakening, doubles the strength stat. This means that Björnsson, with his aura, would have an effective strength of 104.1, or 2,082 pounds.
It is said that an elite hunter, such as Qrow Branwen, can multiply their strength and speed by at least eight. This means that even if he can only lift three hundred pounds normally, with aura he can lift over 2400 pounds, making him the stronger of the two.
Humans as a species have a maximum lift of 1,500 pounds, or 75 points in strength.
Dexterity: Theoretically humans without aura can reach the top speed of 40 mph, though Usain Bolt only runs at 27.8 mph. This means that you have a maximum dexterity score of 40.
Though it varies with specialty, an elite hunter should be able to run at 18 mph without aura, and 144 mph with it. Every point in dexterity increases your max speed by one mph. An elite hunter has a raw dexterity score of 18, and an effective score of 144. It should be noted that the dexterity scores of others are calculated with there top speeds in mind, which doesn't always translate to fast reflexes. Usain Bolt, for instance, may be able to outrun Bruce Lee, but Bruce Lee would react faster in a fight.
Vitality: Aura is not a muscle and as such it has no theoretical upper limit. This stat is determined at birth for everyone besides you. While there is a general trend of hunters with larger auras living longer, it is not a hard rule. As such it varies wildly from person to person, even among the elite. Some elites become elites because they are better at not getting hit or blocking hits than others are. While they have less of a margin for error than hunters with larger aura's, they still make it work.
Every point in aura will add another fifty points to your aura bar. A pound of blunt force, that is to say force delivered by fists, maces, clubs, or other flat or circular weapons, will drain one point of aura. A civilian championship boxer can deliver 1,066 pounds of force per hit.
Intelligence: There is no theoretical upper limit to intelligence among the human race. Once more, it varies wildly from person to person. In your case, a point in intelligence will lead to a 1% increase in the speed that you learn something.
Wisdom: Once more, wisdom has no upper limit. Numerically, increasing wisdom doesn't really do anything. It increases the penchant a person has for making good decisions.
These are the five stats that determine level. In the case of you, Jaune Arc, your level is determined proactively from this point on. Your current stats are as follows:
Name: Jaune Arc
Title: The Gamer
Level: 15
Exp: 0/1000
Health points: 98/100
Aura points: 0/1,000
Strength: 5/75 (10)
Dexterity: 7/40 (14)
Vitality: 20
Intelligence: 24
Wisdom: 19
Stat points: 0
Perk points: 10
This gives you a total of 75 stat points. Because you gain 5 stat points per level, you must be level 15. This is called retroactive assessment, and is how the game determines the level of everyone around you.
Jaune nodded. That made a lot of sense. He couldn't help but notice the two numbers in parenthesis after his strength and dexterity scores.
The numbers in parenthesis after your strength and dexterity scores are your effective scores, while the normal numbers are your raw scores. As long as your aura points do not hit zero, those are the numbers that are relevant.
So just by activating aura, he had a force-field and was twice as strong and fast as he was when he first killed the Beowolf. A smile slowly appeared on Jaune's face as it occurred to him that maybe he didn't suck as badly as he originally thought he did.
Continue to 'Title System?'
With nothing else to select, Jaune did so.
Whereas killing animals, faunus, humans, and grimm automatically takes energy from them to strengthen you, titles indirectly take aura from others through long periods of time to grant you special abilities.
A person is constantly generating aura as you can see from your own aura skill. However, they can only store so much at any given time, and so once they are full, the excess bleeds off into the environment, saturated with their emotions, beliefs, and experiences.
It is fear tainted aura radiation that allows Grimm to find scared people.
In your case, the game can actively absorb the aura of people who have a certain belief about you.
So for instance, if they believe that you are a master swordsman, the game will absorb the aura they are radiating and once it has crossed a certain threshold of aura absorption for a certain belief, it will automatically create a title that you can equip to boost your power.
The more famous he got, the stronger he got? Jaune liked the sound of that.
Jaune then spent a few more minutes studying the interface of his semblance. In addition to his stats and perks, there was also the skill section, which if he recalled correctly, was dependent on the intelligence stat.
Skill Screen
Gamer's body, passive, lv. max- Allows Jaune to live life like a video game character.
Gamer's sight, passive, lv. max- Allows Jaune to see the levels of those around him. Warning: When calculating level, it will only take the raw stat scores of the scanned into account. As such, it is only really accurate on Grimm and civilians. Can be misleading for hunters.
Aura, passive, lv. 1, 0.07% to next level- A shield that also increases the physical parameters of the user.
Current buffs:
Shield: One point of aura takes one pound of force to drain (upgrades at level 2).
Multiplier: Doubles strength and speed (upgrades at level 3).
Beginner long sword combat, active, lv. 1, 0.01%- Jaune Arc's ability to wield a long sword in combat.
Beginner kite shield combat, active, lv. 1, 0.01%- Jaune Arc's ability to wield a shield in combat.
Jaune had second thoughts on not investing heavier into intelligence given how potent upgrades to his aura would be, but then he remembered upgraded aura wouldn't be visible. It wouldn't impress anyone, so it wouldn't help improve his Kleos.
His aura would have to wait until he got a much more impressive physique and made solid progress into getting the title of hero.
In the time that it took him to finish reading about his semblance, his body had finally fully healed, and with it, he could now start storing aura for future use.
Jaune would never forget the feeling of gaining that first point of aura and feeling his enhance speed and strength kick in. It felt as though every cell in his body was treated to a glass of hot chocolate. Super charged from the aura coursing through him, they damn near started vibrating.
A warm fuzzy feeling came over him as he stood up a stretched, his spine making a popping noise as he straightened out. How trivial the trials of the previous night seemed now. The task he struggled with so arduously just a few hours ago, he now did with unremarkable ease.
Almost lazily, Jaune retrieved the weapons he had dropped, repacked, and set off once more.
His little battle the last night saw him gain actual superpowers, something that Jaune never imagined would happen.
Regardless, it did, and with it he had successfully completed the fifth and final part of Act 1, 'Belly of the Whale.' In that part, the hero was supposed to face a minor danger and undergo a metamorphosis. Jaune thought that facing down a grimm and unlocking his aura and semblance certainly counted.
Jaune paused as he remembered that the metamorphosis was supposed to be spiritual in nature.
Oh well. He was sure he could make something up. Perhaps a statement about this being the start of his dream about world peace?
I saw then what truly lay before us. If even the weakest of Grimm was so powerful, then should we not band together and stand together as one? While we are divided the petty strife's of our shared history, our true enemy was out there, always waiting, always watching. Only by loving our fellow man and banding together can we survive the coming darkness.
'Yes, that sounded rather nice,' Jaune mused as he resumed his walk. He would be sure to include that line in his autobiography.
Omake 1:
At 25 years old, Jaune Arc, also known as All Might, was one of the most accomplished hunters of all time. As he sat down from another hard day of hero work, he decided to watch some TV before going to bed.
The last thing he was watching the night before was the news, so when he turned it on, the first thing he saw was VNN. He was about to click away when he caught sight of the headlines.
Hunter Killer: Stain. Real Name: Tyrian Callows.
Who the hell was the hunter killer?
Interest piqued, Jaune put the remote down and settled himself in to watch.
A narrator started speaking, "All Might's debut left a deep impression on him, and he set his sights on becoming a hero. He enrolled in a private hero school but was fundamentally disappointed at the depraved view of hero's taught in high-school."
Jaune, though flattered, couldn't help but scoff at Stain's stupidity. What was he expecting? Thing about the educational system was that they could only work with what was given to them. You put shit in, you get shit out.
"He dropped out in the summer of first year.
"Until the end of his teenage years, he called for a return to the old idea of heroes, making speeches on the street until he realized resignedly that his words had no power."
What old idea of heroes? By 'old,' did he mean all the way back to Ancient Greece, where heroes like Achilles committed mass murder and looted cities? Or older back to Gilgamesh when heroes were rapists?
"For the next ten years, he trained in killing techniques, during which time his parents passed away."
Sort of random, but okay.
"He emphasized a return to the old idea of heroes."
Alright, so they were back on track. Good to know.
"Heroes must not seek compensation. The title 'Hero' must only be granted to those who epitomize self-sacrifice."
"The present day heroes are all fakes who are all talk."
All Might glanced around his studio penthouse self-consciously.
"He wanted society to realize this through his purges."
The narrator stopped speaking, and Stain started, "Someone must be dyed in blood. I must take back what it means to be a hero! Come! Try and get me, you fakes! The only one I'll let kill me is the true hero, All Might!"
Throughout the entire speech, a small smile was making its way onto All Might's face, and at the very end, when Stain called him a true hero, All Might burst into laughter.
Imbecile.
Little did he know that the first thing All Might did after getting his semblance was max out his Falsification skill.
Authors Note:
10,215 words without the author's note or omake. Damn it has been a while.
So first thing is first, let me introduce myself. My name is Allen Light, but on YouTube, I go by Lightifer. I do gaming video's and am currently up to 94 subscribers. I would appreciate a sub. I upload videos daily at 3:45 pm, eastern time. Once more, please subscribe.
Between video's, college, and life in general, I don't get to write nearly as much as I want to, but I'm trying.
Anyways, onto actual story related material. I've been reading 'A man of no tribe,' by Ikedawg43, and here's one of the reviews by reviewer, 'Eating Upside Down.'
Oh I get why I don't like the story, it's over dramatic and over analytical on angst and feelings. I was hoping for an adventure story when I read the summary instead of a corny melodrama filled affair. I mean causing a broken ankle in combat school for monsters is not a big fucking deal. A lot of this story is just drama to have drama. It's not meaningful or purposeful at all. And the humor is for weebs or the socially awkward. I can't tell if I'm reading either middle schoolers having lunch, preschoolers at the playground, or a self insert Rwby fic.
Also the word count is super misleading. A lot of content is author notes that reek of needing attention. Like, reply to comments via pm. Only reason you'd write so much additional content is if either there is pressing questions that the story itself can't answer, or if there's confusion or misleading information.
This author writes so much about their opinions and justifications for elements in the story, that they should tag themselves as an OC. Not to mention that there's bashing in the story that's pretty tasteless and immature, a wannabe edgy plot, bullshit empty drama, literal chapters discussing the drama, and 2D characters that all seem to react and feel the same way.
I will say I thought the fight scenes were dope. I think that's the part that makes me mad the most, because it's like finding a diamond in mountains of shit. You have to ask yourself if it's worth it, and I'm sure there's someone who's willing to. But I'm not willing to dig up half a million words of edge lord emo Jaune and his very important problems to find 10 or so scenes.
This review wasn't aimed at me, but I really feel as though it could apply to me rather well. Like Ikedawg43, on most chapters my authors notes could be their own goddamn chapters, to the point about a quarter of the word count is just a goddamn authors note. A quarter of the story is just me trying to justify and insert my own opinions into the story and explain why I did what I did. This reads a lot like a self-insert fanfic than a RWBY one.
Not this time. If you have any question, I'd be happy to answer them in PM's.
Very shortly though, on the topic of the setting, I based the setting loosely on post civil war America.
With the great war ending, the slaves are free, but in the South/Mistral and Atlas, Jim Crow laws are still active, and so are company towns and indentured servitude. Effectively, slavery with a few extra steps.
The inspiration for this story is My Hero Academia, One Punch Man, and Game of Thrones.
Once again, please subscribe to my YouTube channel, Lightifer!