Beta'd by SpookyNoodle

"Pity to those whose worst enemy is themself - and this does in fact include yours truly. But congratulations to those who overcome their worst enemy. Congratulations, Jaune."

"What would you know, Jaune? You're dead."

It was habit to twirl his sword. Held in his hand just high enough that it didn't smack against the ground, and low enough that it almost skit on top of it but never managing to, he could hear small, rapid footsteps over the rhythmic noise and he walked faster because that was not a good thing.

They'd rendezvous at a rift stone. He trusted her to make it that far on her own – pawns weren't helpless, at least, the ones in the service of the Arisen weren't. She was smart, resourceful, and with that hammer of hers she wouldn't be long, unless she found something that no longer needed its legs.

The problem was to find a way to get to whatever riftstone she got to. This would have been impossible if his chest didn't have the habit of glowing when she raised her hand in the air. He looked down, past his armor and at the grisly scar. It was faint, and he was heading in the wrong direction, but he planned to head her off at the pass and meet up with her via a far easier, and already cleared way. It wouldn't remain that way for long and it was best to make use of it.

The sharp clack and shake of his armor quieted as his steps closed. In this place the doors were barred and released by out of the way levers that he'd meticulously gone through to unlock them all - in some cases that had been a bad decision, but they all provided places to go and things to see. He looked at the one before him and narrowed his eyes. His sword came to a sudden stop. This door wasn't supposed to be locked.

He heard it then, the roar of a creature, and turned slowly. It was four legged and black as night, wolf-like in shape and hellish in its eyes and mouth. It was a hellhound, aptly named because – and he unstrapped his shield and took stance as it reared its head back – it spit fire.

And it wasn't alone. On its back was a gnarled and pale thing, a demogoblin, ugly in the kindest sense and clad in bones that ranged from small to large in necklaces and rings and the helmet vaguely reminiscent of a deer's skull. It pointed at him and jeered, commanding the beast to charge. The creature shook its 'master' off its back and let loose a ball of fire that careened toward him.

Still hearing the footsteps, he knew he needed to make this quick. He smoothly brought up his shield and muttered to himself. Seconds before the fire hit, the shield was encased in ice and a spray of ice erupted from it, freezing and everything in its path. The flame wicked out and the hellhound charged and leapt, fangs bared, its glowing eyes and blazing mouth a nightmare on fire.

He brought his shield up in a perfect block as its sharp, glowing teeth careened toward him, causing it to impact painfully into the shield one second, meeting another gout of cold, and was frozen in the next. Like a large ice sculpture it dropped to the ground and he kicked it swiftly, shattering it into dozens of pieces.

He heard more footsteps. The demogoblin tried to run, but before it could hope to get away, before it could even get a foot, it was cut down. Light behind it cleaved and a small, diagonal cut appeared. The goblin's slid off of its midsection and it fell to the ground with a wet slap but he had already turned, hurrying to pull the lever and unlock the door.

"Jaune?"

He whirled saw the scythe first, large and grisly, fresh with blood. She was habitually cleaning the gore from her weapon instead of the blood streaked on her face, looking up at him with big, silver eyes. "Jaune!" She exclaimed, a wide, happy smile on her face as if she hadn't tried to kill him minutes earlier.

"Ah, crap…" He muttered, stepping back and gripping his sword tighter. Maybe he should have taken the hard way. "…Hey, Ruby."

The world was spinning, and for the life of him Jaune Arc couldn't decide which way was up.

The air was cold and he felt himself moving, but saw nothing but a blurred mass, as if he'd gotten thrown off of a carousel spinning out of control and the only option that remained was to land on the ground.

Jaune hit the cold ground hard while his stomach decided if it wanted to empty itself of the only food he had gotten in days. It soon made its choice and out came the meal, the only one he remembered having since waking up, spewing all over the ground.

He gurgled and lurched as nausea took over him and his vision swam, and any doubts about the reality of the world, whether it was just a computer generated program, not unlike the odd dreams he would have as a child, left him forever. The half-digested meat, blurred, but clearing before his eyes, and the awful smell was real enough. The immense feeling of movement was exacerbated by his motion sickness and he lurched and retched again, his cheek scraping against cold, rough stone, the earthy smell of dirt tainted by vomit.

Dreams couldn't replicate that. This was real life… and it sucked like usual.

Being breathless and clutching his stomach, he knew this was no longer Cassardis and he was no longer in Adaro's home. It wasn't the lack of a bedspread, or fire crackling feet away that told him, or how dark and cold it was - the clothes he'd been given were definitely not suited for this – so quiet that his only company were the noises made by his groaning and stomach roiling.

In an effort to distance himself from the contents of his stomach, Jaune looked up and saw… nothing. Not a roof, not a ceiling, not the faintest stars in the sky. This meant that it had worked, of course. The game had taken him somewhere. It just so happened that now he was in no state or mood to be happy about that, or wonder where he was. He did realize just how ominous that message had been. …This may have been a mistake.

The motions started to fade and Jaune retched again, feeling similar to how it felt to be carelessly waved around as a small child by his sisters. He stumbled and barley caught himself, but the warm, wet smack and slide had him refuse to look down as his hand smacked into the pile. It slid and he fell even more and caught himself with his other hand that also landed in the pile of his misery, which splattered onto his face.

Oh yeah, this was the life.

Shaking, he groaned a tired, miserable, "Ugh," and typical for vomiting until there was nothing left, he felt better. That, Jaune Arc was experienced in. No one knew how to shake off a stomach wrenching retch like him.

'Good job vomitboy.' He grimaced, leaned back on his knees and wiped his mouth. "Never... Again."

Then, something caught his attention. A slight noise that sounded both like a faint whir caused by rapid spinning, and… a fire. Jaune turned and found a rather large, inexplicably cut stone sitting behind him. Its appearance left little room for guessing - it looked like a gigantic tooth. Or, a dragon's claw. One glance at his chest told Jaune which one it was.

Having no reason not to – and with one disgusted glance at his hands and a cursory estimation of how he got where he was, Jaune decided the stone had it coming – he extended his hand. It was just far enough that he could almost touch it with his longest finger, but he felt petty and awful, as if the stone was blonde and called him vomitboy itself.

The second his fingertip touched it the oddly shaped rock sprang to life like a crackling fire, showering and spouting embers spout off to the sides of it. Jaune jerked back but they never made it off of the face of the stone or its edges. The embers progressed into a visibly hot blue and purple that glowed that swirled to the center of the stone, and with it a similar sinking feeling of realization took the place of Jaune's lost meal, was accompanied by a tingling hot sensation in his chest, right at the grisly scar - between the way the stone-fire spun in the center, and how the embers outside of it raced around them all endlessly, as well as the shape of the rock, he had the tedious answer to a question he hadn't bothered to ask yet.

The stone was some kind of… teleporter. The game brought him here using it, and… it wasn't something he wanted to repeat.

Jaune slowly pulled away, not wanting to be taken on another ride that would undoubtedly have him dry heaving or throwing up a lung. He imagined being sent back to Adaro's home as is, hands caked in puke, and grimaced. He didn't want to be a bother to Adaro, or have Velvet come running back for him. Silently Jaune wiped his hands in fresh, black dirt until they didn't feel wet anymore, and then did it until they felt overly dry and he couldn't smell anything.

The moment his finger left the proximity of the stone the fire had died. Jaune looked at it and shook his head. "Welcome to Dragon's Dogma," he said, miserably hoarse and with any enthusiasm torn from his throat. It was not the sound of someone who knew what they were doing.

Slowly he stood up, his legs feeling weak and unsteady as he muttered, "Where am I?" But he quickly noticed that this was pointless when his voice came back to him in an echo.

He was alone, and turned over and again to take in his surroundings. To his front – unless it was really up and he was still woozy – there was only darkness at first, but the longer he stared the more he could just make out the vague silhouettes of buildings, but only just. And even from what he'd barely seen of Cassardis, he knew they weren't the same.

This was abandoned, as told by dirt road extended out and away with no lights and no signs of life. Above him, he couldn't see even the brightest star and how the rushing of water was rapid beneath him, and not distant and calm like the sea outside of Adaro's home. It smelled cold and old instead of briny. And like puke. Definitely not beachfront property.

'Ruin?' The word popped into his head. It seemed right. He was in a ruin. He didn't like ruins, dark or no. The last time he had been in one hadn't exactly ended well for him, had it?

Again he thought better, and too late, of his choice to accept the game's offer. At this a simmer of fear tried to catch hold in his chest. Should he really be here, alone and helpless? If anything happened…

The feeling faded immediately and Jaune took a deep breath; everyone was helpless at some point. Even his sisters had been once. 'Probably.'

Cassardis had been, and if what Velvet had told him was true, in front of the Dragon everyone was helpless. But he could and had changed that...at sacrifice to himself. It made him a hero. Jaune laughed at that. He might have been helpless, but he didn't have to be, right?

He would change how helpless he was. That's why he was here. The tutorial. Jaune Arc was an Arisen and he wouldn't turn back now. 'Defeat the dragon… be a hero,' he thought with a small, wondering huff. 'Reclaim your heart... Sounds simple enough.'

'Stop anyone else from dying at the Dragon's hands. …Claws?' Jaune rolled his eyes. '…Go home.'

Home?

It had been weeks since he left home and Velvet said he was asleep for a couple of days. …How was his family doing? They had to know he was gone by now.

A sudden realization hit him with enough force to make Jaune blink: He was gone, had fallen from a cliff.

Before, he feared his family tracking him down and coming to Beacon to drag him back. He'd been prepared to stand his ground and not go, but he'd literally gone from one world into the next, and though he more or less fine (the lack of his heart didn't seem too worrying), to the rest of the world… he was dead. He had to be, Jaune Arc fell from a cliff to his apparent death and no one, no one, knew where he was. It was a sobering thought.

He tried to imagine the looks on his parents and siblings faces. When he got what seemed like an accurate depiction of… something, be it sadness or shock or loss, and he cycled through them all and found that not once had he'd seen them associated with him, Jaune felt nothing.

The only option was to move forward, then. To get back home, he needed to defeat the Dragon. Worrying, just like he had all of his life, wouldn't help in the slightest. Not here, not ever. He could settle things then.

He tried to think of how relieved his family could be and felt indifferent.

With nothing but darkness before him, and a cursory glance to the sides showing a steep drop on his left and right, coincidentally moving forward meant turning around. He did, and slowly craned his neck very top of the... Well, it couldn't call it a building. His house was a building. This was… bigger. A giant mausoleum, big, and stuck out like a sore thumb in this dark place, the far high and away ceiling of what he recognized as a cave ceiling providing a steep contrast. But it was the only thing that seemed like it belonged. Unlike the ruins in the Foreverfall, it was intact, and just as intimidating.

Looking back down, he saw an open door. He looked behind him and then at the stone, and finally at his chest before taking a step forward. Then another, into the doorway where a lone, long corridor awaited him, barely illuminated by a light eclipsed by a flight of stairs.

The color was drained from the world Jaune stopped as a message appeared. But something looked and felt… off.

I hear the sounds of a great and terrible battle brewing, it said, but as he tried to dismiss it, it didn't move. He did it again and again but it wouldn't budge. When it finally went away Jaune knew that it wasn't because of him.

Another one appeared in its place and he jerked back because of it. It was talking to him. Don't you? The sound of battle... I remember this. So tiresome.

There was a silent voice to this, a personality that hadn't been there before. He could almost hear the voice behind the words as if the game was speaking to him. Games might not be able to talk, but he walked around without a heart. This was better than going insane, at least.

The message disappeared and before Jaune could walk any further the world shook. It was a deafening noise, like lightning meeting stone echoed through the lone corridor, the sound bouncing off of the walls and making his ears rattle. It happened again and again, the sound of breaking, cracking ice, roaring fire, and booming thunder all together in a ground vibrating cacophony. He ran toward the noise before he could think better of it.

Yet again… Slave to a broken order, another message came, and with it the cold voice that Jaune could almost hear next to him. All you are, is repetition. Dare you look upon the truth?

The message's voice almost stopped Jaune, whatever was causing it didn't sound 'good'. It sounded like trouble. The font was still the same, still seemingly indifferent to the messages previous, but it bore a cold, hard edge to it.

Arisen.

This message, clouding his vision stubbornly like one of his sisters, gave way to show the ouroboros again. It spun until it didn't, then it cracked down the center where he assumed it started, right down the middle. It crumbled into ash and the message disappeared.

Jaune hadn't realized he was still running and stumbled. He was at the stairs now and leapt up them, jumping two stairs and then three at a time - his sisters could have done better but he didn't care, and jumped again. Four steps. He was at the top.

As Jaune reached the top of the stairs, breaking out into a wide room that made Beacon's halls look tiny in comparison, he saw the world broken. The largest stone columns he had ever laid eyes on broke like chips and cracked against the ground. The world was slow and with a clarity that chilled him Jaune could see the bodies. Skeletons. Rusted and forgotten weapons, all strewn about as carelessly as their owners. He stepped on one of them and felt the cold, decomposed hand underneath his sandaled foot, and was grateful for his now empty stomach.

And in the center of it all... Jaune watched as something crashed from the air and into the ground. The floor broke like a layer of ice and Jaune saw odd green mist that he had fallen through, but he soon paid less attention to that and more attention to the whirling vortex that erupted from the center of the now broken floor with a gust so powerful that it sounded like all hell had broken loose.

He watched helplessly, just on the edge of the vortex, as person after person was sucked inside. Dead, and the living. Jaune saw three of them - a large man that eclipsed even his father, a tiny woman with a pointed hat, and one with a bow. They ran, but not for long, and soon tried to claw away from the center but couldn't escape. It was only a second later that, in the center, they fell.

Literally fell, Jaune watched them suddenly drop from the world and felt the familiar lurch of his stomach. He could feel his feet moving too, slowly but surely and ever quicker getting pulled to the center, and their fate would be his.

'Come on…'

The wind was insane, the gust that pulled on him causing the shirt he'd woken up in to flap wildly. The alabaster fabric caught his eye and Jaune looked down at the corpse that only remained because his foot held it in place. Its feet flapped like grotesque strings and his eyes darted to its weapon that wedged itself between cracks in the ground – it was an ugly thing of a sword, rusted and chipped. It would have horrified his father and sisters to see it, but Jaune lacked their appreciation for weapons.

In the same second he heard yelling. Jaune's head snapped up and there, dozens of feet away and well within the pull of the vortex he could see someone running for dear life.

'It's just a matter of time…' His chest felt cold, but the ground was as giving as ice, and any step the figure took was ultimately lost. Slowly, Jaune looked over to the center and saw the thing that caused it all. It was gigantic, like the Dragon given human form. His blood felt like freezing when he could have sworn its small, red eyes flick to him.

He stepped back, eyes flicking to the pitiful weapon on the ground. He barely knew how to use one, was hard to teach, learning was difficult, but he knew what happened the last time he charged something with a sword. And the time before that. It never ended well.

In a single movement Jaune knelt down and swept the sword up by the hilt. It felt… fitting. He adjusted his grip and the corpse went flying like feather into the center of the room, its nightmarish visage flapping helplessly at the corner of Jaune's vision as it was sucked in to the swirling green vortex.

Velvet had called him Arisen, a hero, after all. And really, after falling to his death, then getting up to lose his heart, what else could happen?

He swallowed thickly. '…Third time's the charm.'

Jaune strafed sharply to left and ran as fast as he could. It was an ankle twisting pace as the growing influence of the vortex sucked him to the side, gradually but assuredly bringing him closer and closer to the center. His feet skid with every step he took and he took to all but jumping with his strides instead. He could feel his clothes flapping and his feet giving way, losing balance – one small slip and his chin would smash against the floor and he'd go flying if he didn't catch himself. Jaune didn't trust himself enough to catch himself, but would get up, and he would keep going.

He set his eyes on the only other soul he could see, and the biggest difference between the two of them was not lost on Jaune – the other, a man, visibly older than him, was smart enough to run away but Jaune Arc just happened to be the type of person dumb enough to run toward trouble, either on purpose on accident. Knowing his family wouldn't have done the latter made him grin maniacally. His heart, if he still had one, would have thundered.

The man's hair was short and messy and red, and it could have been the green light cast by the vortex, but he saw his eyes were green, almost familiar. But hair was dark and his face was hard, scarred, dirty, and Jaune could see that it wasn't taking everything the man had to run, even with armor looking as heavy as Jaune felt and a sword and Shield at his side and a billowing red cape behind him.

Jaune could feel himself start to flag – he wasn't a runner, that was one of his sisters – and leapt with effort over fallen debris, the remains of a once great column of stone, and skid past what remained of a pile of corpses he spotted before like he'd made a mad dash and turn into a narrow hallway. He stumbled, arms flailing to right himself, and lost another foot of distance to the vortex, straying dangerously close to behind the person he was trying to save. This was new.

"Come on…." He muttered to himself, and then yelled at the top of his lungs, "Hang on!"

He didn't think the man had heard him but was close enough to hear his forceful breathing as he sprinted for his life, but then the man's eyes flicked to him once and did a double take. In that type, Jaune, with his long legs and fierce, desperate strides, lost another half foot but gained another five feet, and slammed into the man as hard as he could with a resounding grunt that took the air out of his lungs.

His father was strong, his mother was fast, and his youngest, most volatile sister could kick and tackle like a mule. Jaune thought of them and bulldozed into the man, tackling him forward and using his momentum and size to push him forward. The force of the vortex was too great and his momentum quickly petered away, but Jaune stubbornly clawed distance for himself until they were on the fringes and kept going until the pull of the vortex could no longer be felt.

And with an exhausted sigh and a troublingly silent chest that contradicted everything he had ever felt of running in his life, Jaune dragged the man behind one of the broken columns and collapsed like a sack of rocks, his rusted sword clanging to the ground next to him.

Almost immediately the man was up, possessing far more endurance evidently, dragging Jaune up by his wrist. Jaune looked through tired eyes as his mouth moved but could barely hear him; he felt half exhausted, as if he'd just sparred with his father or sister. He hadn't done that in long, long time…

The man's face was covered in stubble and his eyes were indeed a dark green, and his short, dark red hair was just barely covering his bloodstained forehead. He was yelling, but Jaune for life of him, couldn't hear what he was yelling about, though he had a good guess. Considering the circumstances, it probably wasn't a hearty 'thank you'.

"We need to go now!" The man's voice may as well have been under water, because Jaune's head was swimming. "We need to leave!" He tugged at Jaune's arm and easily pulled him up and away from the column, and Jaune's haggard body followed.

"I don't know who you are or how you got here, friend, but you saved my life and I'm going to return the favor," the man said. He hurriedly dug into his pocket and took out a small, circular rock. Jaune shook his head as he spied it, seeing the familiar whirling pattern.

"Dragon's dogma," Jaune muttered, seeing the stone. The similarity were unmistakable. The man lobbed it into the air and hefted Jaune up just as he started to fall. It wasn't gentle. Just like the old spars, alright. 'Some tutorial this is…'

The man snapped his head to Jaune. "What?!"

The stone started to fall and the next thing Jaune saw was a blinding light. It illuminated illuminating the man's face; his hair was a lot darker, as were his eyes, and he was no material for a cereal box, but Jaune could see the resemblance. It jogged his memory like an unstuck cog and he remembered Pyrrha Nikos, and wondered if they were related.

The light consumed everything and, suddenly, the man wasn't there anymore. Jaune collapsed to the ground in a tired pile of taxed muscle and expended stamina, felt his chin smack against the ground and clenched his jaw with the impact. It was just like the old spars.

His staggered vision tried to spy the ground around him but he couldn't see. "Hey…You… you-you okay…?" Jaune called. He pawed around and felt nothing. The man was gone without a trace. Realization set in – he was alone, again, and no one was here to help him this time.

He palmed the ground to try to get back to the column – to rest, Oum he was so tired. Just like the old spars. He couldn't even manage that. He felt breathless and weak like a kick to the stomach, and when the sound of thunderous footsteps sent vibrations from the cold ground to his cheek, he still couldn't look up.

He thought he would vomit again, but it didn't happen. That was good. He stuck his nose into a place it didn't belong, again, and this is what he got, but at least he wouldn't puke.

'Third time's the charm, alright…' He was always extremely difficult when it came to learning. His family realized that at some point, but once more it seemed like Jaune himself hadn't gotten that message, hadn't decided to quit.

He smiled a little at that.

A voice started to speak but he couldn't understand it. It was distant, faded, and eventually stopped. In its place, another message appeared before his eyes and the narration was just as accommodating as before.

Hello, Jaune.

Jaune clutched his stomach as the world continued to move, the color kept its saturation, and the game acted of its own accord. He had only one thing to say. "Ah, crap."

He'd managed to play hero one more time, but… Jaune wasn't so sure he liked this game anymore.

And back to the irregularly scheduled Jaunening. A wild Arisen appears; it's a jungle out there. (Bad) Things are happening for (to) Jaune. Isn't he just so lucky?

Also, everyone who's played the game will probably know what's going on, but in case you don't, or haven't played it, shoot me a message with your question. But, Savan, you remember Savan, right? And that annoying move of the Daimon's? Of course you do.

Thanks to everyone who has enjoyed this so far! A warning, though: I don't plan on making it a typical gamer-fic. I wonder if I should put gamer in quotation marks in that case, just in case.

Telron: Nope!

Featherine: Oh, they definitely are the best. The Hellfire armor is my favorite, but that's only because of the cloak. I've never fought the Ur-Dragon online, but now I'm getting ideas.

And yes! The Arisen does learn extremely quickly. Kind of a necessity, I'd think.

Funny you should mention the Daimon too. He's apparently really powerful. This chapter is because of you.

Tetchy crane: Thanks for the suggestion! I have no clue if I'll go into the specifics of the magic. I've half a mind to just say 'magic'. How does that work? Magic. How's that do whatever? Magic. How's that on fire but still alive? Resistance to magic.

As for the harem, I did wonder about it. I honestly don't know at this point – romance is hardly the first thing on Jaune's mind, but with Dragon's Dogma, the same might not be said for others.

Dazac, crasyadis, zacshadrack: Thanks lads!

Draconianerror: Thank you. Jaune will be exploring Bitterback Isle during both times. You can imagine what'll happen if he tries to go there mid-game.

Shirosaki Kizuro: Thanks!

Fantasy OH YEA: Velvet is pretty great. I hope she stays around too!

Hope you enjoyed and many thousand thanks to SpookyNoodles!