Part 2 of 2 of Jaune Musou. Team RWBY dealing with First Kingdom Problems. Might make part 3 since people want to see Pyrrha being just fine.

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The grim reality of the mook exodus didn't just hit Weiss - it hit all of them.

They'd brushed it off at first, convinced that the militiamen, White Fang, and other assorted goons would eventually come crawling back once they realized that farming or blacksmithing or whatever dumb menial jobs they had scurried off to couldn't possibly be as rewarding as getting stomped into the dirt for Huntsman pocket change. Sure it wasn't a glamorous life, but it still must've been better compared to packing groceries or planting crops, right?

But as the days turned to weeks, the sheer weight of economic devastation settled over them. Missions remained unfulfilled, contracts went unsigned, and the Huntsmens' once overflowing bank accounts saw nothing but withdrawals and no replenishments, reality came crashing down on Team RWBY harder than any of them had ever expected.

Early on, Yang waved off their worries, dismissing the whole thing as a temporary problem. It was just a minor setback, she said. They'd come crawling back once they got bored. Then the weeks dragged on, battlefields stayed empty, and not a single whimpering grunt signed up to get launched into orbit by one of her patented flaming uppercuts. They weren't coming back, and that Yang began to experience something she never thought she would feel in her life.

Withdrawal.

Not just from the sweet, sweet dopamine of effortlessly styling on an entire militia and sending poor fools flying through the air like ragdolls, but from the money.

Yang, to quote Weiss, was used to a certain lifestyle. Fancy drinks, custom upgrades for bumbleby, and high-quality sunglasses that cost more than most people's monthly rent. Why shouldn't she splurge on herself, she asked once. Money was there to be spent, not hoard.

But now that the paychecks stopped coming in and she saw her balance drop every time she withdrew even the smallest amount, she finally reached the point where she had to make a terrifying decision: she'd have to start cutting back.

She stared down at the battered menu of the cheap, absolutely bottom-tier bar she had never once set foot in before, hands trembling slightly as she counted her Lien. She couldn't afford her usual Strawberry Sunrise. No, she had to make do with less.

Her hands shook as she reached for the cheapest option, her fingers clenching into a fist before she slammed her head onto the bar with a groan, "This isn't fair..." she whined. The bartender - who had seen far worse meltdowns in his time - wordlessly poured her a drink.

Yang took one sip, winced violently, and seriously contemplated taking up a part-time job.

Ruby was one of the loudest complainers when the mooks first quit, pouting and stomping around like a kid who had just been told Christmas was canceled (cause it basically was), complaining about how she couldn't get any EXP, couldn't level up, and was stuck at the same skill threshold for weeks because fighting Grim just wasn't the same. Grimm hordes were a thing of the past, and even they didn't give as much money and EXP as an afternoon styling on some people who didn't stand a chance against her.

But all of her EXP woes paled in comparison to the true, lasting tragedy of the whole thing.

She couldn't afford her weapon modifications anymore. No more custom-built upgrades. No more experimental scythe attachments. No more 'what if I turned Crescent Rose into a folding glaive with a hidden shotgun inside of it' ideas.

Nothing.

For the first time in years, Ruby was stuck with the same version of her weapon she'd been using since last semester. The materials were too expensive, and the rent for the forge she'd been renting was steep enough that she couldn't afford to renew her lease.

It wasn't even that Crescent Rose was bad...but it wasn't better. And for someone like Ruby, someone who lived for the thrill of tinkering, improving, upgrading, it was absolute agony.

She sat at her workbench, staring down at the sad pile of scrap metal and half-finished parts that she didn't have the money to finish. Her expression was dark, her spirit utterly broken. She wanted to cry and apologize to her baby for not being able to spoil her this month because all those jerks ran off to get normal jobs. What was wrong with

Blake passed by, glancing up form her book, "You okay?"

Ruby exhaled slowly, looking up with an empty, haunted expression.

"This...this is how normal people live, isn't it?" she whispered.

Blake patted her shoulder sympathetically.

Blake had, at least for a while, barely noticed the economic collapse unfolding around them. While the others lamented their dwindling bank accounts and their inability to afford the many, many luxuries they'd taken for granted, she'd continued with business as usual, picking up a few small hunts here and there, reading in the quiet, and enjoying the newfound peace that came with not being interrupted every ten seconds by Yang boasting about how many mooks she'd launched that day.

She chalked that up to being raised differently. Weiss grew up spoiled on that Schnee money while Ruby and Yang had a Dad, two Moms, and an Uncle that were all Huntsmen during the peak of the mook beating renaissance. By contrast, all she had was living inside a mansion in a tropical island and two loving parents. She didn't grow up in the lap of luxury or care about expensive drinks, fashions, and penthouses. No, a good book and commissioning stories were all she needed.

...

It wasn't until she went to restock her personal library that it hit her.

She'd walked into her favorite bookstore, eyes uncharacteristically bright and ready to buy the next (limited edition) volume of her favorite series...only to stop cold when she saw the price tag. Her stomach sank. She pulled out her wallet, checked the balance. She could afford it, but only barely. It'd cut into her grocery budget and she wouldn't be able to afford that imported tuna she loved. She'd have to make do with some cheaper marlin instead.

Blake was a lot of things. A former revolutionary, a skilled Huntress, and a highly trained warrior. And now was standing motionless in the middle of a bookstore, weighing the decision between food and literature.

Her hands curled into fists. She could still afford to buy the regular book, of course, but it wouldn't have the author's autograph, their notes, or their first drafts. It would've just been the book itself. The same book thousands of others got.

...

With a deeply pained sigh, she put the book back on the shelf, turned, and walked out of the store like a woman who'd just lost everything.

Weiss had tried so hard to convince herself that this was temporary, that the mooks would come crawling back, and that the economy would right itself. She refused to believe she'd ever be reduced to the state that the others had fallen into, but as the weeks stretched on, as her personal funds continued to dwindle and even her trust accounts started being flagged for 'excessive withdrawals', she'd finally reached the breaking point.

And now, here she was.

Standing in front of a discount store.

She stared at the entrance like it was the gates of hell, her entire being rejecting what was about to happen, her pride screaming at her to turn away, but her wallet - her miserable, pathetic, near-empty wallet - demanded otherwise. She needed new Dust cartridges, and going to her usual supplier wasn't an option right now.

She...She couldn't afford it.

She couldn't afford the premium ones anymore. She couldn't even afford the mid-tier ones. She didn't think it would be a problem. When she'd attacked that militia that contained that damnable Jaune Arc, she used up all of her Dust. Was it necessary? No, but she held herself to high standards. She wouldn't just come in swinging her fists like a brute the same way Yang did. She was a Schnee, and her position demanded she defeated her foes with elegance and grace.

...Now that grace had cost her.

And so, against every fiber of her being, the very foundation of her dignity, she took a deep breath, stepped forward, and entered...the discount aisle.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. It was so unfair.

The reality of their situation had finally sunk in a couple of months later. There was no point in denying it any longer, no use in pretending that things would return to normal. No amount of of assurances could make them convince themselves that the mooks would come crawling back once they realized that farm work and blacksmithing didn't have the same thrill as getting suplexed into the dirt by a 5'8 blonde with anger issues.

The exp farms weren't coming back, the money fountain had dried up. And Team RWBY, like all Huntsmen, now had to take...other jobs.

"Miss Huntress, are you even listening to me?"

Ruby forced a painfully strained smile, gripping Crescent Rose so tightly her knuckles turned even whiter down normal as she glanced at the very chatty noblewoman (she insisted on being called that cause she was a weirdo Atlesian) she'd been hired to escort across the city, "Yes, Lady...uh...Eleanor," she said, making an honest effort to remember her name while her brain slowly melted from boredom. This was worse than Professor Port's lectures.

"I said-" the noblewoman sniffed, adjusting her unnecessarily extravagant hat, "-That we must hurry. The gala starts in an hour, and I cannot possibly be late!" Ruby twitched. The way she emphasized her words was getting on the Huntress' nerves.

Ruby fought the urge to groan. She used to spend her days fighting armies. She used to zoom through battlefields slicing down entire battalions with absurd speed, dashing through explosions with reckless abandon, flipping over enemy commanders like it was a game. She'd chased after them when they ran and always pushed herself to break records. Her personal one was the time she'd sucked in 200 soldiers at once during a single spinning tornado.

And now?

Now she was walking at a snail's pace, escorting a rich, entitled woman to a stupid party, dodging complaints about how "uncouth" it was to carry such a "brutish" weapon, and stopping every ten minutes so her client could admire her own reflection in a storefront window.

It paid...fine. Not bad. Not great. Just fine. Enough to help her get some groceries and maybe a little treat, buthing more.

She wanted to die.

Yang always considered herself a woman of action. She was a Huntress, damn it. A warrior, a fighter, someone who thrived on the thrill of battle, the rush of combat, the sheer, exhilarating joy of hitting someone so hard they crated the ground.

But somehow, she ended up here - standing completely still in front of some fancy high-profile businessman, arms crossed, watching a bunch of suits talk about stocks like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

She'd been hired as security. A bodyguard for some guy who'd never even seen a Grimm in real life and would probably faint if someone raised their voice at him.

There wasn't was even any danger. No rival businessmen or a someone else with a bone to pick. That would've at least been interested. No, it was just...standing like statue for hours. For normal pay. Pay that wasn't 'beating up a thousand guys and getting rich for it' pay, but 'this is what normal people make' pay.

She'd felt more empty inside. She suddenly remembered Dad's words about investing their earnings. She'd blown him off, snorting that she was way too young to worry about that kind of crap. Get back to her when she was 40 and hitting her midlife crisis.

She refused to admit he was right.

Yang turned her head slightly, glancing at her employer who was currently rambling about market projections. She wondered how much trouble she would get in if she just punched him for fun.

Weiss was a warrior, a Huntress, and a duelist of unparalleled grace and skill. But most of all, she was a Schnee.Even among Huntresses, she stood out among her peers. All Huntsmen were strong, but she brought a certain dignity to the position that no one could hope to match. When hapless goons saw Weiss Schnee strutting across the field, they knew that it was the end.

And now she'd been hired...to find someone's missing house cat.

Weiss wanted to scream. It had taken three hours. Three agonizing, humiliating hours of crawling through alleyways, coaxing a stubborn feline out from beneath a stack of crates, and getting scratched across the face when the little beast finally decided to let itself be caught. It didn't hurt because of her Aura, but even the fact that she'd been scratched out by some feline had her simmering at the audacity and humiliation of it all.

All for 200 lien.

She'd walked back into town, the cat tucked under her arm as it hissed at her. Its owner beamed as he paid her the modest, completely underwhelming amount of lien. Her eye twitched. She'd tipped her waiter more back before this economic depression.

She took the money, sat down on the nearest bench, and buried her face in her hands. This was her life now. Days of aggressive mediocrity unless she wanted to bend the knee to her father again. Her gut churned with rage. Once she found Jaune Arc, she'd be sure to punch him straight in his smug face.

Blake accepted her fate more gracefully than the others (or so she told herself). She'd always been a realist. She knew that nothing good lasted forever, that change was inevitable, and that adjustments had to be made. So when she found herself picking up odd jobs to make ends meet, she'd convinced herself that she was fine with it.

Until she got a fetch quest. A literal fetch quest.

She had been hired to retrieve an old lady's groceries. Not slay a Grimm, not stop a bandit raid (most of them gave up too), not fight an army. Just...get groceries.

She'd sprinted across battlefields, dodging melee weapons, deflected bullets, and delivered devastating blows to commanders three times her size-

And now she was running errands. It couldn't have even been quick too. She had to wait in line for two hours because today was coupon day.

Hours later, she stood in front of the kindly old woman who had given her the job, watching as she counted out the Lien coins one by one with agonizing slowness. Blake's ears flicked in silent frustration, "...Here you go, dear," the woman finally said, placing the payment in her hands with a warm smile. 150 lien, "Thank you so much."

Blake forced herself to smile back, "No problem, ma'am." She walked away, staring down at the meager pile of Lien in her palm before she clenched her fingers. Then she walked straight to the bookstore and bought herself a (cheap) novel, because if she was going to suffer, she was going to suffer on her own terms.

If there was one thing that made the entire situation even more unbearable than it already was, one thing that turned the already crushing humiliation of their circumstances into something far worse, it was the memes.

They started off small at first, little jokes on the message boards, a few passing comments made by former militiamen reveling in their newfound freedom, harmless jabs about how it must be so hard for Huntresses now that they actually had to work for a living instead of speed-running battlefield-wide massacres for easy cash, but then they spread.

And theyspread fast.

Suddenly, every single Hunstman in Remnant who had ever taken a job that involved beating the absolute tar out of grunts for money (which was basically everyone) was now the target of an endless, inescapable tidal wave of mockery, every single one of them bombarded with images, gifs, jokes, and ruthless edits that had turned their suffering into the most popular online joke in all of Remnant.

A heavily edited image of Yang, holding a tiny, depressing paycheck in one hand while staring at a "Help Wanted" sign with a dead look in her eyes, captioned with "tfw you used to make 10,000 Lien for suplexing one guy and now you have to apply for retail" went viral overnight. And no matter how many times Yang tried to report the post, no matter how much she complained and claimed that she wasn't broke, it didn't matter. It was already too late - the meme was out in the wild, and the dustnet was ruthless.

The next was a picture of Ruby sitting at a public workbench looking absolutely devastated at the weapon upgrade she couldn't afford to complete. It had been paired with sad violin music and titled "top 10 tragic Huntress moments". The comments section were immediately flooded with former mooks saying things like, "imagine not being able to afford things because your job doesn't pay enough, can't relate" and, "LMAO cry harder, I had to work 14-hour shifts to pay for my armor while you were out here doing air combos on my entire squad."

Ruby whined and defend herself online, ignoring Weiss' warnings that it would only make things worse.

Weiss, who thought she was safe from the worst of it because surely no one would dare publicly mock a Schnee, had almost thrown her Scroll across the room when she opened the latest trending post only to find an edited picture of herself standing in the middle of a discount store aisle. She looked visibly distressed, staring at a bottle of generic-brand Dust with an absolutely haunted look in her eyes. It was captioned,"when you go from fighting for honor to fighting for coupons."

She had never been more furious in her entire life. She also vowed to hunt down whoever took that picture.

Blake had avoided the worst of the backlash somehow. Perhaps it was because she had a more lowkey lifestyle. Either way, Weiss resented her for it. She should've had the grace to at least suffer with them in solidarity.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Oh no, they could've handled humiliation, much as it annoyed them. What really grindined their gears were just how unapologetic the former goons were. There were no olive branches, no regrets, no attempts to smooth things over. Nothing but endless smugness and an entire dustnet's worth of "you get what you deserve" energy coming at them from every angle, no matter where they turned. Ungrateful swine.

They were practically celebrating, openly mocking Huntsmen who had spent years treating them as cannon fodder, revelling in the fact that the economy had finally turned against them, that the days of easy money and endless beatdowns were gone. For the first time in history, Huntsmen actually had to experience the same kind of miserable, exhausting, average wage work that every single one of them had endured for years while getting mercilessly stomped on for barely enough Lien to buy a meal.

She was sure that Jaune Arc was responsible for this. He'd been the one to kickstart this whole thing and selfishly upend all their lives for his own selfish gain. Why couldn't he have just kept his head down? The system was working! It gave thousands of people jobs and ensured the Huntsmen were well-compensated. It was a well-oiled machine. But no, he decided to be a bastard and tear down the whole thing. Now she and ever other Huntsman on Remnant was suffering.

Weiss clenched her hands into shaky fists. This wasn't over, not by a longshot. She'd find a way to claw herself back to the position she deserved.

Jaune, contrary to popular belief, wasn't sipping drinks on a sunny beach, nor was he reclining in a lavish mansion paid for by the suffering of Huntsmen who'd been forced to take honest work for normal pay. He wasn't even particularly well off.

No, Jaune was working the cash register at a grocery store. And honestly? He was fine with it. It wasn't glorious, it wasn't exciting, and it wasn't anything even remotely interesting. But it was stable. He didn't have to worry about his bruises getting bruises and the store was completely devoid of any Huntsmen yeeting him across a battlefield for funsies. The worst he had to deal with was the occasional Karne, and they were way easier. At least they couldn't air juggle him.

That was more than enough for him. With a steady paycheck, a work schedule that didn't involve getting thrown like a lawn dart every afternoon, and no one demanding he fight for his life against overpowered warriors in impractical outfits, he was perfectly content.

Which was why, when Weiss Schnee and Ruby Rose showed up at his checkout lane, their shopping carts filled with carefully budgeted groceries, their expressions a mix of disbelief and poorly concealed frustration, he didn't react. Not out of rudeness or some smug sense of justified smug satisfaction, he just...didn't care. Without the threat of his face getting caved in, the pair of Huntresses were just two more customers in his eyes.

He didn't grovel, didn't react in shock, didn't even comment on how Weiss Schnee, the once-proud heiress, was standing in front of him clutching a fistful of coupons like a single mother trying to stretch her budget. He just scanned their items, bagged them up, and read off the total, "Alright, that'll be 128 Lien."

...

Ruby was too stunned to speak, her hands gripping her little wallet like she was still trying to process the emotional whiplash of seeing Jaune Damn Him to Hell Arc, of all people, working retail while she and Weiss had been running around doing side quests for normal pay. Her partner opened her mouth, but all that came out was a strangle little noise like she'd gorged on one cookie too many.

Weiss, on the other hand, was not handling it well at all. She stared at him, waiting for some kind of remark, some smug jab, some ridiculous "I told you so" that would give her a reason to unleash her mounting frustration.

But there was nothing. He didn't gloat, he didn't smirk, he didn't even smile. He just stood there, his expression neutral, waiting patiently as if she were any other customer. It made her blood boil. He was supposed to be laughing at them. He was supposed to be taking victory laps, rubbing it in, mocking them for their downfall while rubbing his hands together in glee at their misery. She'd gone to sleep at night with thoughts of revenge. Some days, it was the only thing that kept her getting up in the morning.

But no. He was just doing his job, and that infuriated her more than anything else.

Weiss gritted her teeth and slammed her stack of coupons onto the counter, "Apply these," she snapped. A part of her was tempted to make a scene, but the last thing she needed was a new meme calling her a Karen. Schneeren. Ugh.

Jaune hummed, casually taking the coupons and scanning them without a word. More silence. Ruby, still visibly rattled, shifted from one foot to another,"...So, uh, Jaune, you're...working here now?"

He nodded, "Yep."

"That's...uh..." she hesitated, clearly not sure what to say, "That's cool?"

Jaune shrugged, "It's honest work."

Weiss twitched. Honest work? As if what she was doing wasn't?! Was he implying that chasing lost pets through alleyways and scraping by on fetch quests wasn't just as legitimate as standing behind a cash register scanning groceries for a living?! It was honest work! And so was decimating armies before he'd gone and ruined it all! She wanted to scream, wanted to shake his shoulders and demand to know why he hated them so much, but her (weakening) sense of properiety kept her in check.

Jaune continued ringing up their items, bagging them neatly and efficiently, treating them exactly like he would treat any other normal customer. It was unbearable, When the total adjusted with the coupons, he casually read off the new amount. "Alright, 102 Lien."

Weiss took far too long fishing out the Lien, her fingers shaking slightly as she dropped the cards into his outstretched hand with a little more force than necessary. Jaune counted them out then handed her the receipt before - worst of all - giving her a polite, professional smile, "Thanks for shopping with us. Have a great day."

That was it. No gloating, no smug satisfaction, no petty revenge. Just a normal customer interaction, as if they were just two completely average people living completely average lives rather than two Huntresses he'd absolutely ruined.

Weiss was seeing red.

Ruby, awkward and clearly sensing the sheer amount of bottled-up rage radiating from her, grabbed the bags and all but dragged Weiss out of the store. They didn't speak as they walked down the street, the weight of the entire situation finally sinking in.

Jaune Arc, the man they had once utterly dominated on the battlefield, the punching bag who had walked away and taken an entire workforce with him, the reason they were now scraping by on insultingly normal jobs for insultingly normal pay, was-

Fine. He was living his life and didn't care about them in the least. He was fine. It infuriated her more than if he'd just laughed in her face and mocked her. At least then, she would've known there was a purpose to it all. Instead, they might as well have been ants under his shoes. There was no retribution, no emotional catharsis. All her plans of taking revenge on Jaune Arc and making him grovel at her feel flew away like Dust in the wind.

Weiss grabbed one of Yang's drinks from the bags and drank it down in one gulp.

Jaune: "I will inflict upon the Huntsmen the greatest insult an enemy can suffer. To be ignored."

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