Here we gooo…
Chapter 3
Don't fix what isn't broken.
It was an old saying, but apt in his situation. While every bit of Jaune's gamer knowledge told him spreading out his stats was a better idea in a videogame, his experience in the real world had been more along the lines of specialism being kind.
And it made sense, didn't it?
School was generalist but everyone who got into a good job went to a university to learn a specialist skill. A doctor was good at medicine; an actor was good at acting; an accountant was good at putting people to sleep. A jack of all trades was a master of none and doomed to end up in some mediocre job somewhere.
So, the obvious thing to do was continue levelling his Charisma.
His morning had become a routine by now. Wake up, remove earplugs, open window, let in the bird that Jaune had named "Doom" on account of it being a doomsayer, and pour some seed out on his table so it'd be too busy stuffing its beak to continue screaming about how the end of the world had yet again been averted. Leaving Doom to eat, he took a shower, dried off and came back out to see a splotch of white on the floor, and Doom preening his tailfeathers on the back of his desk's chair.
"What have I told you about pooing on the floor!?"
"I cast my waste into the void."
"The void of my bedroom!"
"No one bird can claim dominion of the sky. Not even a featherless, flightless bird like you."
"This isn't the sky! It's my bedroom! And I'm not a bird!"
"We are all—urk!" Doom croaked as Jaune's hands closed around him. Stomping to the open window, he hurled the bastard out, watching him squawk and right himself before flying back to his tree.
"If you're going to be a filthy bastard then you can stay outside!" Jaune yelled.
Another, rounder bird landed on his windowsill, looked up at him and asked, in a deep voice. "Wanna smash?"
Jaune smashed the window shut and locked them out.
It tapped on the glass. "Lemme smash…"
Speak with Animals had been a mistake.
In so many ways.
After wiping up the bird poo so his mother wouldn't think he'd left it for her (a death sentence even his Charisma wouldn't get him out of), he headed on downstairs for breakfast. Nicholas was back again, in a rare moment when he'd managed to take a week off work to just relax with the family. He'd been in a good mood of late, which Jaune couldn't help but think was because he'd stopped asking his father for training.
"Morning Jaune." Nicholas waved him to the table. "So, your mother tells me you're picking up the guitar."
"Hm." Jaune answered between mouthfuls of food. "Learning it."
He wasn't sure what he'd expected but the quest implied he should just pick one and then be rewarded. That hadn't been the case, so he assumed he needed to learn to play it as well. Which made sense.
Sort of.
Having full knowledge of how to play a guitar being dumped into your head would have been stupid, but then so was having full understanding of animal language, so he wasn't quite sure where his Semblance drew the line when it came to what was reasonable and what was not. Maybe it was that he wasn't allowed to be granted things outside of a level up or the acquisition of a perk.
"How is that bird you're domesticating coming along?" asked his mother.
"Poorly. And I'm not domesticating it. It's just a pain in my ass that won't go away – and you won't let me cut the tree outside my bedroom down."
"I absolutely will not," Juniper said, all smiles.
"You'd only have the tree falling back into your bedroom and crushing you," said Coral. "Which might not be a bad thing when you and your stupid shouting at a bird keep waking me up."
Jaune glowered at his sister, who raised her middle finger back. He was too tired to fight, and he never won anyway. That hadn't changed for having as much Charisma as he did. If anything, it seemed to make Coral want to verbally spar with him even more. There was no pleasing her.
Breakfast was a noisy affair with Juniper trying to calm them all down and the girls fighting to be heard over one another. All meals were loud when you had eight children, but at least it drowned out the mating cries of the birds outside, which were thankfully meant to end in a week or two. Then it'd be back to whatever birds shouted about – the end of the world, apparently.
Excusing himself, Jaune picked up the guitar he'd been lent by the school and headed out to the park to practice on his weekend. It was a warm day, and the house was too cramped, not to mention his sisters would all complain of the noise.
/-/
The park was loud with people and animals both, but Jaune managed to tune it all out with some headphones plugged into his scroll loudly teaching him how to hold chords on a guitar. C, D, G. His palm slid down the back of the neck as his fingers pressed down on the strings and his free hand strummed. It was an acoustic guitar designed to be played as part of the school band rather than an electric one, but it had a nice sound to it and didn't require a big amp to play some music.
A red disc whizzed by a short distance in front of him, followed by a dog at full sprint with a huge, dopey grin on its face, caught it, then brought it back to the girl who's thrown it.
"Good boy!" cried the young girl. "Who's a good boy?"
"ME! I AM THE GOOD BOY! ME! IT'S ME!"
"You're a good boy!"
"YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" It whirled on the spot excitedly. "I AM THE GOOD BOY! I AM THE GOOD BOY!"
Jaune stared.
"Tch," grumbled an older dog, walking with its owners down the path. "In my day a proud hound had to help their blind master navigate this world without being crushed by the metal beasts, and only once he did so successfully would he be awarded with the accolade of goodest boy. How standards have slipped."
With a roll of his eyes at the cantankerous old man in dog form, Jaune toyed with his borrowed guitar once more, tuning out the many distractions – including the ducks being fed by an elderly couple who were saying some horrifically racist things about the swans. The ducks, that was. Not the old people.
Anyway, the guitar was really too big to carry around easily, which was a shame since his active quest indicated bard skills, which suggested he might want to keep a guitar on hand.
I guess there's a reason a lot of bards in videogames use lutes. I might have considered the same if I even knew where I could buy a lute nowadays.
Or how to play it. There were millions of tutorial videos online for a popular instrument like a guitar and precious little for more unique instruments. And he was nothing if not happy to give up and go for what was popular.
Why fix what isn't broken?
It was a little sad to find that two hours of practice didn't grant him a free point of Charisma. When it came to that, flirting and asking women out at the bars had been a goldmine, but he hadn't been back since running into Raven. It just didn't feel right. Not only because of who he might meet, but because his charisma was increasing in score, and he was kind of scared of what would happen if a woman he didn't even know said "yes" when he asked her out.
Funny how the thing he'd always dreamed of was now his worst fear. He'd spent years imagining getting a girlfriend, but he only realised now it was a possibility that he didn't know what to do with one. He'd ask his father if he didn't think the advice would be horrifically cringe-inducing. His mother, meanwhile, would start gushing and asking who it was, and his sisters could be the worst gossips.
The obvious solution was to just go for it and learn like every other person in existence did – by fumbling along and figuring it out. But that made a lot more sense when it was schoolkids learning. It didn't make nearly as much if he was asking out a grown woman at a bar. They'd surely expect him to be a little more experienced.
The guitar played a melodic sound as he casually strummed it, gently reinforcing the hand positions as he switched from chord to chord in a simple melody one of the tutorial videos had drummed into him. All the while, he kept thinking that if this were a game he'd just push on with the stat farming and not worry about the consequences, but this wasn't a game. It was real life, and he had to deal with those consequences.
Maybe the whole "what isn't broken" thing worked here, too. He'd had his method of farming Charisma and it had broken when he ran into a dangerous criminal. As such, he should learn from the experience and not try it again. Or at least not so recklessly.
"That means I need a new way of farming charisma, though. Something less likely to blow up in my face." The answer, funnily enough, was obvious when Jaune looked down at the guitar in his hands. "Wait a minute…"
It took an hour for Jaune to go to the nearest charity shop in Ansel and explain his idea, and they were only too happy for a young man to help raise money for disadvantaged children. He came back to the park with a sealed red charity box that he set on the floor, then sat on the park bench and nervously swallowed.
There were a lot of really simple songs he'd learned from both the tutorials and the music teacher at school. Nothing so impressive that he'd have audiences in tears and screaming his name, but oldies that had stood the test of time with remarkably simple chord progression. Back before rock and roll make music more complicated (and better in Jaune's opinion). It was the olden times when the singing mattered more than the guitar.
And so, with a charity box, a guitar, and an afternoon to himself.
Jaune began to sing.
It… wasn't the best singing.
He knew that, and he was sure a lot of people passing by thought it as well, but he didn't have a microphone, so it wasn't the loudest and most bothersome singing anyway. He kept going, fumbling the occasional chord, and peaking his voice at the wrong spots, and pretty much thoroughly embarrassing himself.
But lien tinkled into the box.
It was for charity.
He was raising money for a good cause.
What did it matter if he wasn't the best busker they'd ever heard? What did it matter if he struggled here or there? Here was a young man on his day off from school embarrassing himself in public to raise money for charity. People stopped to listen, clap, and offer their spare change because it was something nice, rather than because he was any good at it. They clapped him after every song, recorded video, and formed a small crowd. Some even joined in, saving Jaune face by singing along better than he could.
But he was still performing music, poorly or not.
.
Through performing for a crowd, you have earned +1 Charisma.
.
Through performing for a crowd, you have earned +1 Charisma.
.
Through performing for a crowd, you have earned +1 Charisma.
.
It didn't come that rapidly of course, but it did come over the course of about two hours, when his fingers started hurting and his voice was scratchy. Despite that, he felt amazing. Not only was he farming up his Charisma, but he was raising money for charity. Win-win. When he eventually was too tired, he put down his guitar with an embarrassed apology to the crowd, which clapped for him like he'd actually played good music.
Returning to the charity shop, he handed the box over – containing some 700 lien, no small amount! – and the woman working there was thrilled.
"Oh, dearie! This is amazing! And I heard about how you did it, too." The old woman pinched his cheek and stretched it out. "Juniper truly has raised such a lovely son. Please, you have to take something for your troubles. I can't have you do all this for nothing. How about this scarf?" The woman pulled down a royal blue scarf off a rack. It wasn't a thick winter scarf but a thin one to be worn more as an accessory than to stay warm. "It'll go with your eyes."
"There's really no need, ma'am. I was glad to help—"
-/-
Scarf of Charitable Song
A scarf gifted away in recognition for charitable actions. Grants +1 to Charisma.
-/-
Wait, what…? Jaune's jaw dropped open, and the woman finished tying it around his neck. Since when did items have stats? Jaune had tested all this. He'd picked up Crocea Mors to see if it was magical, and he'd touched his father's armour. They didn't have any special things to them; they were just clothing. He'd assumed as a result that his Semblance didn't account for an inventory or equipment system, and that kind of made sense. His stats didn't have a lien counter like a lot of games would have for money.
What made this different, then?
Is it because it was gifted to me as a reward? Like a quest reward…?
No, there hadn't been a quest. More like a side-quest then, or an achievement. Something that might reward a player in a game. He didn't know, but this scarf was essentially now magical. He wondered if it would even work for another person. Or was it literally a piece of clothing that his Semblance was making have an effect on him, and it was just normal otherwise? This was all so confusing.
"Um. Actually, I do kind of like this," he said, and the woman beamed. "Would it be okay if I came again tomorrow to raise money? Not for a reward this time."
"Such a sweetheart!" she cried. "But you can take some, you know. If you just wanted to donate 50% to charity, then it would still be a kind act. You don't have to walk away with nothing."
"I'm not walking away with nothing, ma'am." He'd gained charisma. "This is helping me practice my music and singing, and it's giving me a chance to get used to performing in front of people. I really don't need any money or—" The woman lunged for him. "Waaaaah—"
"Such a sweet boy!" the old woman wailed, swinging Jaune around like he was a small stuffed animal. "Aaaaaaah! If only my grandson was half as hard-working as you! Wait." She pushed him away. "My daughter is single. Thirty-two," she admitted. "But single."
"I—I have to go," Jaune blurted out. "I'll see you tomorrow, ma'am!"
"Call me mother-in-law!" the old lady shouted.
It was evening when Jaune got home, more exhausted than he thought he'd be from everything. It was a good fatigue, satisfying in how it felt, but he was tired all the same and approached the front door of the Arc family home with the borrowed guitar slung over his back on a strap running over his chest.
With a flutter of wings, Doom landed on his shoulder and pecked at his hair. He was gentle, pulling something out that Jaune hoped was a twig and not an insect. The birch, which might have been a raven or just a blackbird, preened its feathers.
"Soon, the sky-god will begin his journey through the underworld. There, he will fight the demons of the world – the birds who fly underground – and if he is victorious, he will rise anew."
"That's not how the sun works, Doom."
"What know you, flightless one? You who hide under a dead tree from the sky-gods."
"The world isn't ending."
Jaune pushed the door open and froze in the doorway.
His family – every single one of them – were crowded at the dining room table, all leaning over Saphron's shoulder as she held her scroll in front of her. Coming from it, Jaune heard the off-tune sound of his own voice and the fumbling guitar strings.
His mother looked up, eyes brimming with proud tears.
"The world really is ending…"
"Told you so," squawked Doom, flapping his wings and taking was a dollop of bird poop left on his shoulder. "I go now into the void—" The bird screeched as Jaune caught it. "Ackkk— T—Tis a gift from I to thee…?"
The bird flapped and wheeled through the air as Jaune hurled it outside and slammed the door shut.
Laying in bed an hour or two later, Jaune's ears still burned from sheer embarrassment after his family – most of them, anyway – had finished praising him for doing something so nice on his day off. Coral had been too sarcastic for compliments, while Jade and Hazel were "too cool" to actually say anything nice to their little brother, and so just commented that he'd been promoted from "lamest being in existence" to "just kinda lame". High praise.
The worst had been mom, naturally. Oh, she'd found out about this from the charity shop owner and wouldn't stop crowing about how her baby boy would do all this. Worse still, she'd asked Saphron to send her the video so she could have a picture printed out and framed.
No amount of charisma was worth this embarrassment.
Almost.
Looking at his stats, Jaune couldn't help but feel happy despite how embarrassing it all was. He'd made genuine progress, and without the complications of running into a criminal or upsetting a lot of women as well.
-/-
Jaune Arc
Lvl 3.
Title: Unknown Saviour of Ansel
HP: 120/120
MP: 60/60
Str: 6
Con: 5
Dex: 5
Wis: 7
Cha: 30 (31)
Aura: Locked
Semblance: The Game
Perks: Speak With Animals
-/-
Three points in charisma might not have seemed like much, but it was accomplished in half a day, and with something that helped him practice his guitar skills as well. More than that, it felt like a good use of his time. Little risk, moderate reward, and a feeling of being a decent person at the end of it rather than coming home from being rejected all night by pretty women and feeling like garbage. The additional bit of charisma in parenthesis appeared to come from the scarf he'd been gifted as a reward.
Either way, he was making genuine progress, and feeling good about it too.
"Maybe this isn't so bad after all…"
"Hey." A beak tapped on the window. "Got any more of those seeds?"
"Never mind."
Jaune inserted his earplugs and rolled over to sleep.
/-/
The Sunday went much the same as the Saturday except that he put in two stints of busking, taking a break in the midday for lunch. He busked at the park in the morning for three more levels in charisma, and then outside the mall for the afternoon, drawing in only two. Whether that was a case of the gains slowing down or him just being too tired to put as much effort into the afternoon he wasn't sure, but he trekked back to the charity shop with 1,200 lien, 5 fresh points of Charisma and a cheery smile large enough to blind everyone he passed.
Since when had working been so fun? Honestly, if chores had come with these kinds of bonuses, then he'd have never spent so much of his life sitting around at home playing videogames. Better yet, people recognised him and waved, and he'd even caught some girls from school watching him and giving some money, smiling, and blushing prettily as they did.
Life was looking up.
-/-
Quest:
The charity store is being held up at gunpoint and it's your duty to save the owner, who has only ever shown you kindness and love. Jump into action and defeat the criminal!
Defeat the criminal: +Exp. +Rep with Ansel. +Title: Law Keeper.
Save the charity shop owner: +Exp. + Rep with Ansel.
Failure: Death of store attendant. +Crushing Guilt. +Title: Avenger.
-/-
Jaune came to a sudden stop.
That…
What…?
He was still about half a minute away from the charity shop, close enough that he could see the building with its closed door and the second-hand goods for sale in the window. Everything looked normal, with people walking by outside.
Could his Semblance be wrong?
It hadn't been with Raven.
I… I should call the police. It was the sensible thing to do. It'd take time for them to arrive, but what could he do against an armed opponent? This was the only way. Maybe if I'd put my stats into fighting attributes and picked a perk around that, I could do something here, but it's not like I can talk a criminal down.
Could he…?
No. No, this was stupid. Jaune looked around desperately for any police just hanging around or walking nearby but there was no one. The village was quiet, and things like this really didn't happen. Everyone knew everyone in Ansel, and it wasn't like you could get away with holding a place up in broad daylight.
Had his Semblance made this happen…?
No. No, that was stupid. His Semblance hadn't dragged Raven Branwen – a woman he didn't even know – across Remnant just to serve as an NPC, and it wouldn't have done the same for this guy here. This wasn't his fault.
But it wouldn't feel that way if he walked away and let the old woman die.
Jaune cursed and moved forward, forcing his heavy legs to take one step after another as he approached the shop. Just a look, he told himself. He could always back out if it wasn't safe. Jaune touched the door and creeped it open enough to peek inside.
"—know you have money!" a man half-heartedly shouted. "This isn't a toy! Open up or you'll regret it!"
"I've given you everything we have. This is a charity store. We don't keep any more than that on the premises. Please, there's no need for this."
"Don't tell me what there's no need for, bitch! You… You're lying to me!" There was a crash as something was knocked to the ground. "Where is your damn money!?"
The crash of something falling made Jaune apply a little too much pressure on the door, causing the electronic sensor to beep for a new customer. The gunman rounded on him, pointing the weapon his way, and Jaune was caught between running for his life or surrendering.
"WHO'S THERE? COME OUT OR I'LL SHOOT!"
Heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode, Jaune stood and entered the store with both hands in the air. "I was just—"
"You think you're something!" rambled the gunman. "You think you're gonna stop me!?"
"Hey. Hey. Chill. I was just coming to the shop. I didn't know you were—"
"Shut up and get on your knees or— or I'll shoot. Don't think I won't!"
Jaune wisely got down on one knee and then the second. How was charisma meant to get him out of this one? His quest seemed to think it would. Did he dare try? Every instinct was telling him just to do as he was told and hope for the best, but the quest failure results painted a far darker picture of what the consequences of that would be.
And his quests hadn't been wrong so far, had they?
"H—Hey, so—"
"Did I say you could fucking talk!?" snarled the gunman. He had the bottom half of his face covered up by a cloth wrapped over his mouth and nose. He was wearing a green hoodie over his body with the hood up over his hair, but it was brown going by the bangs. He waved the gun like he didn't know how to use it, which would have been a lot more calming had a gun been difficult to use. "I'm here for the money and—"
"I have the money." Jaune piped up and jingled the collection bucket in his right hand. It made an appreciative and heavy rattle. The gunman's eyes were drawn to it instantly. "The whole reason I came back was to hand in my collection money. You can take that. Just break the bucket open later." Jaune tried to sound reasonable. "It's got to be more than you're going to get robbing a charity store, man. There's over a grand in here."
The gunman pointed the weapon at him. "P—Put it on the ground."
Jaune did as he was told, then brought his hands back up.
"Good. Yeah, good. That's it. Now… Now throw it toward me. Slowly!"
He'd have liked to ask why the man told him to put it down if he now wanted it throwing, but that really wasn't important when he was staring down a gun. Jaune slowly brought one hand down to grasp the base of the bucket, then gave it a gentle under-armed toss. The thing sailed about half the distance and then crashed down with an angry rattle. It didn't break, thankfully, and it was closer to the gunman than it was to him.
"There," said Jaune, meeting the man's eyes. "Easy, right? All you need to do now is tell me to move out the way of the door. I'll do that," he assured him. "You're the one with the gun. You're the one in control. No one has even called the police yet, so you can hide the gun and just power-walk way the moment you're outside. We're not going to chase you when we're unarmed, are we? That'd be suicide."
"Right. Right, yeah. You better not follow me!"
"I'm a frightened teenager and she's an elderly woman. No one is going to chase you. And a hostage would be the worst idea right now because then everyone would know you're a criminal. You should just take the money and run."
"Don't tell me—" The gunman looked to the money, then his gun, and stooped onto one knee. He kept the gun and his eyes trained on Jaune as he fumbled around for the bucket and eventually found it. The thing was heavy, rattling loudly. That seemed to please the man. "Right. Get out the way of the door. Slowly. I'll shoot you!"
"I'm moving." Jaune stayed on his knees, squirming his way to the side toward where a whole shelf of repaired jackets was being sold. "See? I'm moving out the way nice and slow. You don't have to worry about me. You can take that charity money and run."
The man stopped halfway to the door. "Charity…?"
"This is a charity shop." Jaune said it like it was obvious, and it was, but this guy looked panicked enough that he might just have picked the first shop he saw and ducked in to make his robbery. "We're raising money for disadvantaged children in Ansel. Those without families or whose families aren't well-off enough to buy them clothes and presents."
The gunman wavered. "But… But I need this."
He wasn't seriously having doubts now, was he? Jaune almost wanted to groan. Just go – take the money and go and leave them both alive. It wasn't like they were even losing anything since that money hadn't entered the hands of the charity shop yet. Jaune looked back to the old lady, who was grasping her counter and looked positively terrified. Weak on her legs, too. He was worried she might have a heart attack.
This wasn't the time for his charisma to decide there was a quest route to convince the gunman to reconsider his choices and turn his life around.
"Look, you should just take the money and go," said Jaune. "You obviously need this if you're willing to go this far so consider it a donation from the charity. Use it to help yourself or your family. I can raise more money—"
.
By talking down a crazed criminal, you have gained +1 Charisma.
.
Jaune blinked and opened his dumb mouth. "By doing what—?"
With a furious snarl, the man launched the bucket of money at him, making Jaune gasp and then cry out as the hefty object struck his chest and brought him to the floor. The electric beeping of the door sounded milliseconds before a slam, and then the man was gone, sprinting away as fast as his legs could take him.
Jaune lay on his back, head spinning, dimly aware that he had just taken 15hp of damage from a charity bin.
How much more would that have been if it were a bullet?
-/-
Quest Succeeded.
You foiled a robbery, saved the day, and talked down a man from murder.
You have gained +1 Level.
You have gained +5 Stat Points.
You have gained + Rep Ansel
-/-
"I've gained a concussion," Jaune mumbled, as he lay on his back. There was a clatter as the old lady came hobbling over, stooping down on crooked limbs to check on him.
"Fool boy!" she cried, tears running down her face. "Why didn't you run? I'm an old lady! What would your mother have said to me had you died?"
"S—Sorry."
"And you should have let him run too! Talking him down like that, all to save a little charity money—"
"I didn't try and talk him down. I just pointed out this was a charity shop. He talked himself down!" Blasted charisma. It had to be. No one just convinced a dangerous criminal like that to give up on their ill-gotten gains and run. "Ugh, my head."
"I'll get ice – and call the police. Wait here."
Like he was going anywhere.
That was too close, he thought, staring up at the ceiling as the old woman made some calls. I could have died. Holy crap. Maybe… Maybe I should branch out into other stats and skills. Get some Constitution and Strength so I can fight better. And some Dexterity so I can dodge.
But it would mean spreading himself thin, wouldn't it? That was three whole stats dedicated to fighting, because unlike in a game where you could just focus on one or two, this was real life. If he went for the assassin's build of full Dex, then he'd die to a stray bullet. If he went for the tank's build of pure Con, then he'd be helpless to stop the person attacking him. It was all three or nothing, which meant at best 1-2 points of it a level.
And how much Constitution would he need to survive a gunshot anyway? His hp had taken a dent from a collision with a plastic container filled with money, so a bullet would presumably do somewhere close to 1,000 damage at least. Possibly more. His charisma was currently at 36 after two days of busking, and it'd take him 90 points to get his three combat skills to that level. At the rate of five points per level, that'd be 18 levels just to catch up to where he was now.
Not including the odd points he could get here and there from working out, running or fighting…
Fighting what…?
He couldn't beat anything dangerous in a fight.
But he could talk them down. Had talked them down. He'd saved the old lady with just the power of his voice, and he'd saved Ansel from an attack by Raven Branwen. Why fix what wasn't broken? And focusing on one stat would let him have a much bigger impact than spreading himself thin.
Besides, how often was he going to run into a situation like this?
Jaune allocated his points.
-/-
Jaune Arc
Lvl 4.
Title: Unknown Saviour of Ansel
HP: 105/130
MP: 60/60
Str: 6
Con: 5
Dex: 5
Wis: 7
Cha: 41 (42)
Aura: Locked
Semblance: The Game
Perks: Speak With Animals
Good job, Jaune! Talk down those criminals. And remember, only bitches spread out their stat points. Go big or go home! It's a good job the Grimm can be reasoned with.
…
They can be reasoned with, right…?
Next Chapter: 14th November
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