Catalyst

"Jaune."

He stopped packing things into his bag and looked up. Mr Brunt gestured for him to come over, and he nodded in return. One or two of his peers who had yet to leave the classroom gave him curious frowns. This was the third time in the last two weeks he had been called to speak to the man after a class, and a few of the more observant ones were catching on. He ignored them and walked over to where the teacher sat, pulling a nearby chair from one of the desks and plopping down into it. The two waited for the stragglers to filter out, staring at one another with blank faces. It was lunch now, so he didn't have to worry about being late for another class.

Jaune had been expecting this, actually. Mr Brunt had been looking at him weirdly ever since class had started, like he was searching for something and having a difficult time finding it. He had paused several times in the middle of the lesson to give him a considering look before continuing. It was a little unsettling, and hadn't helped his already short mood.

The two continued to look at each other for a few moments longer after the classroom emptied completely, Mr Brunt starting to look ever so slightly uncomfortable at the boy's flat stare. He shifted slightly, opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. Jaune didn't move. He tried again, this time succeeding. "So, what do think of-"

"He's a dick."

Mr Brunt sighed and leant back in his chair, shoulders slumping. "You're not wrong, but I'd appreciate it if you'd at least attempt a bit of decorum when talking to a teacher."

Jaune was unimpressed. "He threw me out of a bullhead," he said, placing both hands on the desktop and leaning forward, half rising from his seat. "An airborne. Bullhead."

"I know, I know. He told me everything," Mr Brunt said tiredly, running his flesh-and-blood hand over his face. He reached beneath the desk and Jaune heard the click of a button being pressed. "Believe me, I let him have it, for all the good it did. He could barely get through a sentence without saying something that had me screaming myself hoarse at him. Damn near sent myself into hysterics at one point, but I think the only thing I ended up doing in the end was amusing him."

Jaune couldn't help the image that sprang to mind. He pictured his normally calm and controlled teacher, red-faced and wild-eyed with veins popping out of his forehead and clawed hands extended like he was just barely containing the urge to strangle someone. He had to stop a smirk from spreading across his lips.

"I knew nothing of what he was planning on doing," Mr Brunt continued. Jaune frowned and peered down at the desk as a hoarse rasp started emanating from beneath it. "All he said was that he'd take care of the situation and that I didn't have to worry anymore." He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry for taking him at face value."

"You're not the one that needs to apologise," Jaune muttered, shooting suspicious glances at the spot the sound was coming from. Mr Brunt scoffed.

"Well it's going to have to do, because you're going to have an easier time prying a bone from a beowolf than you are getting Marcus Vaughn to say sorry."

Jaune grimaced at the mention of the Grimm. He'd had nightmares that first night after awakening his aura, about ruby-eyed shadows chasing him through trees with branches that tried to grab him. Even after experiencing first-hand the raw fierceness and bloodlust of the terrifying creatures, their dogged determination to rip him to shreds, he couldn't say Mr Brunt was wrong.

The rasping sound slowly transitioned to the rumble of bubbling water. Jaune stared as steam started to rise from beneath the desk and a rich aroma filled the room. Mr Brunt didn't seem to notice it at all.

"Are you brewing coffee?" Jaune asked incredulously.

The man shrugged and said, "I got tired of walking to the teachers lounge everytime I wanted a cuppa." He reached underneath the desk with both hands and came up with two mugs and a pot of black coffee. He set the mugs down and filled them up before passing one to Jaune. "Drink up. I don't have any milk and sugar, so you're going to have to drink it as is."

Jaune eyed the steaming black liquid dubiously, wondering whether or not he should reject it. If he remembered correctly, Mr Brunt's preferred brand was an unholy mixture that was liable to melt through his oesophagus if he drank it.

'Observe.'

Devil's Brew (Black; 250ml)

Officially Remnant's most potent brand of coffee, an achievement that the company wears as a badge of honour. Sleep is for the weak.

10% Chance of inducing a heart attack in the elderly.

5 VIT for 3 hours

Jaune's eyebrows shot up at seeing the special effects of the coffee. He raised his gaze to meet Mr Brunt's, who gave him an expectant look. Sighing, he raised the mug to his lips. The scent of the beverage filled his nose, and goosebumps broke out over his skin. He tentatively took a sip and his face immediately shriveled up at the taste.

Ping!

5 VIT

To say it was strong was an understatement. It was bitter to the point of tasting acidic and set his taste buds and salivary glands buzzing uncomfortably. He just managed to stop himself from doing a spit take, and instead swallowed it - with much difficulty - before proceeding to cough his lungs out. While not on the level of the ungodly tincture, it brought up disturbing memories of the experience.

His stupid english teacher sat and watched, calmy sipping from his own mug. Jaune swore he was hiding a grin behind the white ceramic. "You alright there, Arc?" he asked, receiving a glare in response. "Don't worry," he chuckled, "you'll get used to it."

Jaune wasn't sure that he would. Nevertheless, he took another small sip. He still cringed at the taste, but managed to stop himself from giving anymore of a reaction than that and shot a defiant scowl at the man across from him.

"Did you just want to apologise, sir?" he asked impatiently, knowing full well the man had more to say.

The amused expression on Mr Brunt's face faded into a contemplative look, similar to the ones he'd been shooting at him during the lesson. With both hands wrapped around his mug, he leant forward and studied Jaune's face in silence

Finally, after several seconds, he said, "You unlocked your own aura."

Jaune blinked. Before he could speak, the man continued. "Between that, and the fact that you actually managed to impress Marcus, I'm struggling to reconcile the naïve boy that was sitting here two weeks ago with the person he described in the woods."

Jaune didn't know what to say. What was the man talking about?

"I nearly died," he explained, not sure if Mr Brunt really knew what had happened that Saturday. "All I did was run away. The only reason I'm alive at all is because that bastard stepped in and saved me. That and I got lucky; If I hadn't unlocked my aura when I did I would have been toast."

Mr Brunt was staring at him with a nonplussed expression on his face. "You… you have no idea how ridiculous what you just said is, do you?"

All Jaune could do was shake his head in confusion and shrug helplessly.

"Kid," began Mr Brunt, "you were assigned an impossible task by one of the most infuriating assholes I have ever met and somehow managed to complete it and impress him. According to Marcus, you channeled Dust barehanded with as much control as if you were using a wand, fought and killed two beowolves with a maimed arm and then outran the rest of the pack until just before Shion's walls." The man's expression got more incredulous with every word he spoke, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying. He seemed to be looking for a reaction from Jaune. Seemingly at a loss for anything else to say, he choked out, "You… you unlocked your own freaking aura."

Jaune remembered the way Marcus had seemed to stick on that detail as well, and was quickly realizing it wasn't as common as he had thought it was. In reality, the majority of Jaune's knowledgebase on huntsman was what was common knowledge and what he'd absorbed from years of huntsman themed movies, TV shows and cartoons. Now of course, he was smart enough to realize that the content of these aforementioned sources was geared more toward entertainment than providing factual information, and that everything was to be taken with a fistfull of salt, but he had never thought all the scenes of the protagonist's self-awakening of their aura had been anything other than common occurrences. Logically, it had to be something that happened, right? If people could only have their aura awakened by someone else who had aura, then how had the first person unlocked theirs? There had to have been a progenitor; someone who had unlocked their own aura and then done the same for others. And if it had happened once, then of course it could have happened again with other people. Nothing special, right?

Apparently, it was.

"You're going to have to explain to me why you're freaking out, sir. I was just trying to survive."

"I am not freaking out," Mr Brunt growled, scowling as he leant back in his seat. "Arc, people who have unlocked their aura by themselves are so incredibly rare that most huntsmen haven't even heard of them, and those that have aren't really sure whether they believe it or not. Hell, three days ago I half-thought they were a fairytale myself. According to what I know, to do what you did, one has to…" he scrunched his face up and waved his hands about in the air vaguely. "'Realise themselves' or something like that. Understand some abstract, fundamental aspect of who they are so well that their soul resonates with the idea." He sighed. "I don't really understand it, I'm just paraphrasing something I heard someone say once."

Jaune had stopped listening. Something in what Mr Brunt had just said had struck a chord inside him, something about the conditions for unlocking your own aura. It took a few seconds before his INT points found the memory and spat it out at him - the notification that had popped up when he'd unlocked his aura. With everything that had happened afterwards he had forgotten about it, but now he remembered it almost word for word.

"I uncovered the nature of my being," he murmured to himself.

Mr Brunt blinked at him. "What?"

"Back in the forest, just before I unlocked my aura, I…" Jaune licked his lips and looked away from the man. "I thought I was going to die." He waited for several moments, and was grateful when the teacher didn't comment. All he heard was a heavy sigh. "I got angry, at both the beowolves and at Marcus. They surrounded me, I couldn't see a way out and I just… I made the decision not to be their prey. That I was going to fight them every step of the way, right up until the moment they killed me, and then even after that if I could. I killed the beowolf in front of me and right after that I unlocked my aura."

Mr Brunt sighed again and kept quiet. The two sat in sombre silence for a while, each taking a sip from their mugs every now and again. Jaune grimaced each time he realised what he was doing. Thoughts swirled around in his head.

With subtle hand movements, he brought up his menu and navigated to the page that displayed his perks. There was only one.

My Strength is my Own

Due to uncovering the nature of your being, you have unlocked your own aura. Your reserves are permanently increased by 20% and grow 10% faster.

Jaune felt his intrigue grow.

'Due to uncovering the nature of your being…'

That wasn't just how he had unlocked his aura. That was also how he had been given the Wraith class; because he'd… what? Somehow discovered the 'nature of his being'? What did that even mean? And what did it have to do with his class being chosen for him? Why the Wraith?

Eventually, Mr Brunt spoke up again. "Any sign of your semblance yet?"

Jaune looked up and hesitated for a few seconds, before holding out his hand. It might not be his semblance, but it would pass for one. He had no doubt that either Marcus or Mr Brunt would eventually see him doing stuff that wasn't possible, Dust or otherwise. He had gotten lucky in the forest; Marcus had logically assumed that he had created those firebolts using the Dust he'd held in his hand, but sooner or later they were going to realize something was up. What better way to explain things off than with a poorly understood and still developing semblance?

With a flash of light, he brought forth the weapon of the Wraith.

Summon: Avarice Lv. 1 (0.0%)

Summons a copy of the ancient weapon of the Wraith to the host's hand for a limited time. As the connection between the host and the Wraith grows stronger, so does the weapon.

"It is by avarice they have lived. I find it fitting then, that it is by Avarice they shall die."

Damage: 1000

Cost: 400 MP

Mr Brunt's eyebrows nearly jumped off his forehead. "Well now," he murmured as he leant forward, examining the translucent, shimmering hatchet Jaune now held in his hand. It was the same one he had seen tucked into the belt of the Wraith's image. "This is interesting."

He turned his attention from the copy of what was assumedly Avarice to Jaune, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Are you limited to a hatchet or can you make other weapons? How strong is it?"

Jaune let go of the ethereal grip and it dissipated into nothingness. "I haven't had the chance to test it out yet, and just the hatchet." He hesitated again. "But it's not just the hatchet."

His teacher's raised eyebrow was his only prompt to continue.

"I can also… sort of… see into people's souls," he said, cringing as the last part of the sentence came out.

Mr Brunt looked at him blankly, before shaking his head. "What?"

Jaune breathed out through his nose. After the incident on the rail, he hadn't been at all eager to use Blind Justice again. The way he had not only completely understood, but felt the man's emotions still sent shivers down his spine when he thought about it. For a moment, he had become the man. It had been weirdly intimate, greatly unsettling and just generally fucking creepy.

Since then, the only people he had been around were his family, and if the thought of using the skill again made him uncomfortable, then the thought of using it on one of them made him queasy. He hadn't used the skill again.

"When I was going back home, after Marcus' test, something happened. I was on the rail and did… something, and the world disappeared. It was all still there, but I couldn't see or hear or feel anything. Everything was just black, like standing in an empty abyss. The only things other than me there were the passengers; they became these glowing, blue mannequin-like things. I almost thought they were ghosts at first."

Mr Brunt raised an unimpressed eyebrow while taking a sip from his mug. "Ghosts?"

Jaune glared. "You didn't see them," he said accusingly. "They looked pretty damn spooky."

The man raised his hands in surrender and Jaune continued. "They all had these holes in their chests. I looked into one of them and I…." He trailed off with a sigh. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I saw things in there. It was like watching a video. This guy was cheating on his wife and… it was almost like I became him. I could understand him and his feelings, and I could feel them myself. The longer I stared, the more I became him; it felt like I was losing myself."

Mr Brunt frowned. "What exactly did you see?"

"Just him hugging a woman, while another one watched. She was wearing the same wedding band as him, and looked heartbroken." Jaune slumped deeper into his chair. "I could feel his guilt and indecision; it was tearing him apart. He genuinely loved the girl he was seeing, but at the same time he hated himself for betraying someone who he thought of as his best friend. For a moment, I completely understood him, down to his core."

Across from him, his teacher was frowning down into his nearly empty mug, his face having grown tighter with each word Jaune spoke. He swished the dregs of his coffee around in his mug before speaking up, his voice serious.

"Jaune?"

"Yes?"

His head rose and he looked him straight in the eye. "Promise me you won't ever use that skill on me or Marcus."

Jaune blinked in confusion. "What? Why - ?"

"Just promise me," Mr Brunt demanded, his eyes burning and mouth set into a hard line. "We've both got a lot of heavy baggage on us, and if your semblance does anything like what you just described, I don't want you seeing or… experiencing any of it." His gaze turned back to his coffee. "Trust me, there's a whole lot worse than an affair," he muttered.

Jaune stared at the man, remembering the nightmarish story he had told him two weeks ago. How many more of those did he have weighing on him? "I promise," he said softly.

The mountainous teacher gave him a small, grateful smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, then tilted his head back and drained the rest of his drink. "You should go and enjoy the rest of your lunch period. Your training starts tomorrow; try and make the most of your last day as a normal high schooler."

Jaune nodded and sat his half-empty mug down on the desk before standing and grabbing his backpack. He was halfway to the door when he paused and turned back.

"Sir, do you mind if I ask one last question?"

"You mean other than that one?" he asked with a smirk.

Jaune ignored his bullshit. "What's your semblance?"

Mr Brunt smiled, before reaching out and laying his right hand on a small potted plant sitting in between the papers on his desk. His arm up to the elbow started glowing with a soft bronze light and the plant went crazy. Leaves and shoots burst out of the stem and flowers spontaneously bloomed all over it as the plant's growth drastically increased. After a second or two, Mr Brunt pulled his hand away and all at once it stopped. Where before was a tiny little flower now stood a small shrub with purple blossoms in full bloom. Mr Brunt grinned at Jaune's amazed expression.

The boy's eyes flickered to the box hovering above his teacher's head.

'Oak of the Emerald, huh?'

~ Line Break ~

Jaune really didn't know why they had to be outside the walls for his training. He could think of plenty of places inside Shion that would work as well as anywhere else, so why leave the safety of the settlement? Granted the pair weren't in the forest itself, but Jaune didn't feel comfortable with nothing but thirty meters of open ground separating them from what he knew housed fierce, bloodthirsty beasts. Every little sound and movement he caught had him carefully scanning the tree line for Grimm, ready to start hurling firebolts at a moment's notice.

"Loosen your panties, you ninny," Marcus grumbled. "The only thing your paranoia is going to do is draw them here."

Jaune spared him a fleeting glance before looking back to the forest. "And what if they're already there and waiting to attack?"

He scoffed. "You won't make much of a huntsman if you let a bunch of mutts catch you in an ambush. Largely due to the fact that you'd be ripped to shreds."

Jaune's lips formed a thin line. "Why are we out here? There are other places we could have used."

"You need to get used to being in dangerous environments," Marcus responded. "From here on out you're going to be getting intimate with life and death situations, and you're less likely to experience the latter if you're not wound tighter than a clockwork mouse." He reached up and began undoing the straps that held his harness in place. "The only reason we aren't going straight into the woods is because your pansy ass looks like it's going to shit itself if so much as a bird squawks."

"How bloody kind of you," Jaune said blandly, though truthfully he was grateful they weren't in the forest. Just the thought of being back amongst those trees, where beowolves and other nasties could be hiding anywhere, made him feel anxious.

Marcus finished undoing all the straps and shrugged off Last Bet, harness and all. "Take that off. Your jacket too." He was pointing at Crocea Mors.

"What? Why?"

"Because you don't know how to use it."

Jaune stared at him. "Right. And just leaving it laying on the ground is going to cause me to absorb ambient knowledge and skill in swordsmanship from Remnant itself. Sound reasoning."

A fist buried itself in his solar plexus.

-400 AP

Jaune blinked up at the notification. The blue of the box blended in quite nicely with the sky, so it looked like the text was just floating there by itself.

He lifted his head. He was lying on his back, on the ground. How did that happen? When did that happen?

He sat up straight, letting out a small grunt of discomfort. His aura had prevented any actual damage, but some of the force of the blow had carried through and his muscles tightened uncomfortably everytime he took a breath.

Marcus was standing a few feet in front of him, looking down at him passively.

"What the hell was that for!?"

"You've got pretty good survival instincts," Marcus said, ignoring him, "and you're not too bad at strategizing either. Your actual skills in a fight, however, suck donkey balls."

"Ok, but why the fuck did you hit me?"

Jaune pushed himself to his feet, and was immediately sent back to the floor as his feet were swept out from under him.

-20 AP

"Stop fucking doing that!"

"Is that what you're going to say to an enemy? Let me tell you boy, the chances of that working on a Grimm are shifty at best." Marcus was standing in the exact same position, looking like he hadn't moved a muscle. "I've got less than two years to beat you into shape, but that doesn't mean we're going to be taking shortcuts. You need to be able to handle yourself in any situation, against any opponent - Grimm, human or faunus."

Jaune got back to his feet, and once again, Marcus attacked him, lashing out with a spartan kick. Jaune had learned though, and hastily jumped to the side to avoid the attack. Marcus nodded approvingly.

"So we will start at the beginning. Unarmed combat." He once again pointed at Jaune's sword. "Put that away."

Jaune hesitated for a second, but then grudgingly loosened Crocea Mors from his belt and tossed it aside.

"Your jacket too," said Marcus. "You're going to be spending a lot of time on the ground, so unless you want it to get covered in sweat, dirt and grass stains, I'd recommend you remove it."

Jaune glowered as he went to do just that. "You're not taking off your jacket."

He received a derisive scoff and a mocking look. "And just why do you think that is, boy?"

Jaune flipped him the bird, and was promptly slapped a second later.

-20 AP

He blinked, holding one hand to his stinging cheek. "Did you just slap me?"

"Yes. Try and make yourself enough of a threat that you warrant a punch, please."

Ping! Quest Alert!

Slap Fight

Quest Objective: Meet your trainer's combat standards before the end of the sparring session.

Completion Rewards: 400 EXP, 3 Points

Failure Penalties: Humiliation, minor injuries and no progression toward life goal.

Accept Y/N

Glowering, Jaune lowered his hand from his cheek and accepted the quest, trying to make the hand movement discreet. As soon as the window disappeared, he rushed forward and swung two punches at Marcus, first a jab and then an uppercut.

"That has got to be one of the most pitiful attacks I've ever seen," the man commented as he hopped backwards, easily avoiding both strikes. "Don't wind up so much, all it does is telegraph your movements and leave an opening in your guard." He then demonstrated how one could take advantage of such an opening by smacking Jaune on the side of his undefended face.

-15 AP

Jaune grunted slightly and raised his arms on either side of his head to ward off any more incoming blows.

"Wrong," Marcus said in a bored tone. Sometime in the split-second Jaune had taken his eyes off of him he'd relocated to his left. He stood in a half crouch, left palm blurring toward his stomach.

-8 AP

The slap lacked power, but was so fast that by the time Jaune felt it, Marcus had already retreated a few feet from him. His posture was completely relaxed, with hands hanging loosely by his sides and his shoulders slouched forward slightly.

"Dodging a strike should always be your first choice," he instructed. "Only block if you can't dodge, and when you do block, make sure your guard covers your torso." He raised his own arms to demonstrate. "Tuck your arms in close. Your knuckles should be level with your eyebrows."

Jaune, still glowering, copied his position. As soon as he had, Marcus advanced on him and struck with a series of open-palmed attacks. They lacked the blinding speed that the previous one had, so Jaune was able to react to them, if only barely. He flinched back and avoided the first strike out of sheer luck, tried to dodge the second, failed, and caught it on his raised arm instead.

-3 AP

Without pause another slap knocked his left arm away from his face, and then three more followed in quick succession, hitting his unguarded cheek, ribs and stomach within half a second of each other. All three seemed to come from different directions.

-14 AP

-11 AP

-7 AP

Jaune grunted with each hit. He couldn't really feel them through his aura, which gave small pulses of light at every impact, but they still carried enough force to snap his head to the side and push him off balance.

A final slap to the back of his knees caused his legs to buckle and Jaune fell to the ground.

-4 AP

"What are you doing on the ground, boy? Whenever you hit the dirt, I expect you to get back up as fast as humanly possible. You're as good as dead in that position."

Jaune growled in frustration and leapt to his feet. Marcus smirked and beckoned for him to come and attack, which he did without hesitation. He wanted to hit this guy.

"Don't walk, shuffle," Marcus instructed, doing just that to meet him halfway. Jaune was too angry to listen; the last thing he wanted to do was take advice from him. He opened with a furious haymaker, his fist blazing toward his opponent's face. Marcus easily wove beneath the attack. "What did I say about winding up?" he asked as he backhanded Jaune on his exposed ribs, taking another six AP away, before dancing his way outside of the boy's reach. "You're telegraphing your movements too much, I can see them coming a mile away. Tighten up your form and relax your shoulders."

Jaune paused, before advancing with gritted teeth and a determined expression. He went in with two straight punches, both easily avoided, before once again swinging a cross.

Marcus was already moving to duck beneath it. "Again, stop win-"

He cut off as he spotted the uppercut heading toward his face. Not even blinking, he lunged to the right and then spun around Jaune so he was behind him. Jaune, sensing the danger he was in, leant forward and kicked out behind him blindly, like a mule. While it didn't connect, it did force Marcus to abandon the attack he was aiming at the boy's kidneys.

Jaune's hasty kick threw him off balance, his weight pulling him forward. Marcus took two long, calm strides and none too gently punted him in the backside, causing him to faceplant in the dirt, his rear poised in the air.

-13 AP

Marcus then proceeded to repeatedly kick Jaune's ass.

"Get -"

-10 AP

"- Up -"

-10 AP

"- Or -"

-10 AP

"- You'll -"

Jaune finally managed to roll to the side and to his feet, the last kick missing. Marcus let him and watched as the boy brought his arms up into a guard, panting and flushed. He could still see large gaps in his defence, but it was better than what he'd had before.

"Die," he finished. "Make sure you keep your balance at all times, especially when you throw a kick."

Jaune didn't say anything, he just growled. His blood was boiling; he wanted to hit this bastard. He wanted to hit him just like he'd been getting hit this entire time. He thought he'd had him there with that feint, but the asshole hadn't been fazed in the slightest. He stood across from him, panting, with a mixture of sweat and dirt caking his face while the huntsman looked as fresh as a daisy. Marcus stood there looking down at Jaune, a condescending tilt to his mouth, as if saying 'You're helpless and we both know it.'

His aura flickered faintly around his form, on the verge of failing. If he was going to have any chance of landing a hit on Marcus he'd have to do it soon. His eyes flicked to the bar on his HUD.

5/550 AP

He nearly winced. One more strike and it would break.

He refocused on Marcus, trying to figure out how to get past the man's guard. He doubted he could; Marcus was faster, stronger, more skilled and more experienced. Nothing he had done had gotten anywhere near the man.

"What the hell are you waiting for, divine intervention? Don't just stand there, attack!"

A growl slipped past his lips. The only advantage he had was that his opponent was underestimating him; his only option was to catch the man by surprise.

'Let's see if this works then,' he thought.

He ran straight at Marcus, abandoning his stance and form completely in favor of bum rushing him. He saw an amused smirk appear on the man's lips. When only a few feet separated them, he turned his body so the left side was facing Marcus and twisted his hips. Marcus' smirk widened; while he wasn't cocking his fist back like he had before, the boy was still making it far too obvious what he was going to do. Jaune swung a weak hook with his left fist, before suddenly retracting it and putting his full weight behind a right cross.

Marcus saw the feint coming a mile away; the boy had already tried that once, and even when it had caught him by surprise, he'd easily avoided it. His hands came up, the left to parry the boy's sloppy punch and the right to simultaneously deliver the final strike to his failing aura.

Jaune saw his trainer's hands start to rise.

'Gotcha.'

He dashed sideways.

Truthfully, he hadn't been completely sure it was possible. So far he had only ever used it to travel in the direction he was facing, but he'd decided to take the chance that 'any direction parallel to the ground' meant that wasn't strictly necessary. It wasn't.

It was a small displacement, just half a metre to his right, but it made all the difference. He was now half a metre from where his target expected him to be, within striking distance and fully wound up to unleash a devastating blow into the opening Marcus had left when he'd gone to parry him. Jaune carried on turning, ready to plow his fist into the huntsman's left cheek.

A savage grin spread across his face. 'Try dodging this, you bastard!'

Marcus leant back and watched as the punch sailed past his nose.

'No fucking way-'

Jaune's disbelief was cut short as Marcus countered. Spinning ninety degrees so his body was facing Jaune's, his hand shot forward, traveling around the boy's extended arm and slamming the crook of his thumb and index finger into Jaune's throat, just below his adam's apple.

Jaune's aura flickered and broke, dissolving into tiny motes of light that quickly disappeared into the air. It barely slowed down the strike, leaving him to suffer the brunt of the hit. All of a sudden he was choking, trying to squeeze air through what felt to be a pinhole. His trachea spasmed and convulsed violently. He stumbled away, hands clutching his neck and gasping for air.

Marcus showed no mercy; if anything, Jaune's aura breaking seemed to waken his ferocity. Stepping forward, he drove the heel of his palm into his student's stomach and followed it swiftly by striking the inside of Jaune's legs with the edge of his hand, just above the knee. He used greater strength and speed than he had at any other time during the fight; Jaune dropped like a puppet with his strings cut, his quadrilateral muscles feeling as though they'd been severed.

He knelt, breathless, choking and unable to move his legs. Hands still clutching his throat, he looked up and met Marcus' gaze with wide eyes. The man regarded his defeated form with cold impassivity, before a slow, cruel smirk spread across his face. With crystal clarity, Jaune knew exactly what the bastard was going to do next. In a blur of movement, Marcus delivered his coup de grâce - rotating his entire body, he sent a thunderous smack crashing across Jaune's bare cheek. The clap echoed out across the open field, before fading into the ether. Jaune's cheek turned ruby-red and immediately started puffing up. He wobbled on his knees for a few moments, before his eyes rolled up and he toppled to the ground, defeated.

Ping!

Quest 'Slap Fight' - Failed

For getting the stuffing beaten out of you, you gain 1 VIT.

The two messages prefaced a thick stack of damage notifications that Jaune didn't have to read to know everything bloody hurt. It took his unsteady vision a few seconds to focus on his health bar.

495/700 HP

Yeah, that felt about right.

"I'll admit, that was an impressive burst of speed. Didn't think you had that in you."

He didn't even recognise Dash's speed as anything supernatural?

Marcus stood over Jaune's prone, groaning form, hands on his hips and a look of intense satisfaction on his face. He spent a few seconds admiring his handiwork with a proud smile before reaching out and prodding the boy with the toe of his boot, causing Jaune to groan louder.

"Come on. Get up, boy," he said, prodding harder. "We still have…" he checked a non-existent watch, "about three hours and forty minutes left."

With one last, drawn-out groan, Jaune pushed himself to his feet while muttering curses under his breath. Slightly unsteady on his feet he faced Marcus, panting, sweaty, dirty and sporting a swollen, glowing cheek. Marcus' grin widened ever so slightly.

"This might actually be fun," he muttered to himself as he walked over to where Jaune had thrown Crocea Mors.

"What are you doing?" Jaune questioned weakly as the man picked up the sword and unsheathed it. He held the blade close to his face and ran a critical eye over it, starting at the hilt and slowly making his way upwards to the tip. He flicked the metal with his finger and listened to the ring it made, before nodding and moving through a short series of moves. Jaune grimaced as he watched; it was just a few basic swings and stabs, but Marcus moved so smoothly and fluidly that it almost looked like a dance. He was a long way off from that.

Marcus stopped and gave Crocea Mors a mildly impressed look. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

Jaune frowned. "Why?"

"This is a few tiers above what they sell in armories - not something a schoolboy would easily come across." Marcus gave him a sharp look. "Where did you get it?"

Jaune shifted under the man's scrutiny. "It's a family heirloom. My great-grandfather used it in the war."

Marcus glanced back at the sword with a raised brow. "And your parents just gave you this?" He sounded a bit incredulous.

Jaune shook his head. "My mom's an engineer, and my dad is the weaponsmith down in Nordain. They don't know I have it."

Marcus' head turned from the blade to him and stayed there. Jaune blinked in confusion, surprised by the man's sudden intense look. Silence reigned as Marcus stared at him, who felt increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Marcus paused for a moment, before speaking. "They don't know you're doing this, do they?"

Jaune stared at him as if he were crazy. "Who, my parents? Are you crazy? Hell no! They'd freak out if they knew what I was doing, especially if they found out what you put me through the other day. What sort of parents would let their kid do any of what I've done?"

Marcus stared for a few seconds longer, before sighing and bending down to pick up the scabbard. "Like I said, this is a good sword. No faults or damage on the blade, the steel sounds good and it's well balanced." He sheathed Crocea Mors and tossed it to Jaune. "I'd recommend you find something else."

Jaune gaped at him. "What?"

Marcus started walking over to the tree line. Jaune followed, his apprehension towards the forest forgotten in his confusion. "What do you mean? You were singing its praises just now!"

"Despite what I said, it's a very basic weapon. It's use extends as far as slashing, stabbing and what limited defense that shield provides. In the hands of a skilled huntsman, it would be more than enough to bring down most Grimm, but a scrub like you needs something more versatile and powerful." He stopped in front of one of the trees. "There's a reason mechashift weapons are so popular; they're capable of adapting to suit the wielder's needs. As long as they're not too complicated, they're extremely efficient." He nodded over to where he'd left his own weapons. "You've seen what those can do."

Jaune glanced between Crocea Mors and Last Bet with a frown, remembering the way the latter had lanced through the air and torn through the pack.

"Where would I get something like that?"

"You said your old man was a weaponsmith, didn't you?"

Jaune whipped his head around. "Did you not hear what I said just now? That's not an option."

Marcus gave an uncaring shrug. "The only other places are the armories in Shion and whatever they have in Nordain, and the stuff they sell is mass-produced mediocrity that won't last long in this kind of lifestyle. You could go to the weaponsmiths in Shion, but unless you're willing to sell some of your organs, I doubt you could afford them." He shrugged again. "I don't really care. It's your problem, you can figure it out on your own."

Before Jaune could say anything, he turned to the tree and wrapped his knuckles against the trunk. "Now, your semblance. I want you to hit this tree with that glowy-axe thing."

Jaune blinked. "How did you know-"

"Al told me."

He leveled a deadpan stare at the man. "Do you two have tea parties where you just discuss every minute detail I mention to either one of you?"

"Shut up and do as I say."

Jaune sighed before walking up to the tree. As he got closer, his anticipation and excitement grew; he had summoned Avarice a few times, but he had yet to actually use it. He was eager to see what effects it had, and to start leveling it up. Based on the way the skill's progress meter stayed firmly at zero percent, he guessed he actually had to hit something with it before it gained experience.

He summoned Avarice to his hand, Marcus letting out an interested hum at the sight of the weapon. Spreading his legs, he raised the glowing, translucent hatchet and looked askance at Marcus.

"The hell you looking at me for? Swing!"

Jaune scowled at the man before setting his sights back on the trunk. Letting out a small breath, he swung the axe at the tree.

It didn't bite into the wood so much as it caused the trunk to explode. A loud bang heralded a shower of splinters and tree sap flying through the air as the entire tree shook. Jaune stared wide-eyed, his hand clutching empty air. Avarice had shattered upon impact.

"Huh," Marcus grunted in bemusement, eyebrows raised. A sizable chunk of wood the size of his torso had been blown out of the tree. The trunk sat at about half its previous diameter. Even more surprising, large patches of frost covered the area Avarice had struck, the tiny ice crystals glittering in the sunlight. There was now a bite to the air that hadn't been there before, and faint traces of mist were busy fading into the air.

Marcus pointed to the frost, wood chips falling from his shoulders. "And this?"

Jaune gave a helpless shrug, still staring at the tree. "No idea. This is the first time I've used it." Still, he hadn't expected that.

Marcus gave the trunk a speculative look, humming once more. "Well, we'll work on that some other time; I just wanted to see what it could do. Right now, I want you to use your sword to cut the rest of the way through the tree.

That got Jaune's attention. "What?" he asked. The idea of using Crocea Mors as a common wood axe didn't sit well with him.

"You heard me. Twenty swings, both forward and backhand, then switch arms. Every forty swings you'll do twenty pushups and situps. If you haven't felled the tree in half an hour, you're doing five times that."

"Why?"

"Strength training," Marcus said shortly. "Also, unless you're content with 'Remnant itself' teaching you, you need to learn to swing that sword properly."

"But-"

"The clock started twenty seconds ago, by the way."

"...Bastard."

…

"That was a disgusting swing, you need to twist your hips more. Five pushups, then do it properly."

Had she heard her son then, Vanessa would have gone through an entire bar of soap washing out his mouth.

〜 Line Break 〜

That Saturday, Jaune was pleasantly surprised to find his oldest sister in the kitchen cooking breakfast when he came down.

"Diane! When did you get here?"

Whereas Claire inherited their mother's looks, Diane had inherited her motherly nature. She was the only other person their mom would let cook for the family, and had often helped take care of their younger siblings in the past. Now that she studied in Vale though, they didn't see much of her. She came home for holidays and occasionally on the weekends, but it was too long of a journey to be made regularly.

"Morning," she replied, juggling various pots and pans around on the stove. "I came in late last night. You all were asleep."

Jaune came up behind her and gave her a quick one-armed hug. "It's good to see you," he said with a grin.

"You too, Hoppy." Even with her back turned, he could see the affectionate smile on her face.

Jaune walked over to the table, where Macie, Tulip and Holly sat in their pajamas. Like them he wore his sleepwear, also covered in little cartoon bunnies, which he wore unashamedly. "Where are the others?"

"Still sleeping. Dad's in the forge."

"Lily is with him," Tulip chimed in sleepily.

The smile faded from Jaune's face. That reminded him of something he'd been agonizing over the last few days. He had come up with a plan to get his hands on a better weapon, and even more than that, but it involved doing something he didn't like. He had finally made the decision to go through with it last night, and this morning he would have to put it into action. He still didn't like it.

He glanced over at Macie, who met his eyes and swiftly turned away with a scowl and an adorable little hmph.

"What's up with her?" Diane asked, glancing over her shoulder. She had their father's features and their mother's face. Without looking, she expertly flipped what looked like a flapjack into the air.

"Accidentally deleted one of the shows she recorded on the holoprojector," Jaune explained with a sigh. "She's been pissed with me since yesterday."

Macie gave another petulant hmph in agreement. He shook his head; he'd already apologized multiple times. If she wanted to hold a grudge over a complete accident, well that was her extremely immature prerogative.

"So what are you making?"

Diane flashed a grin. "Jajecznica."

"Don't sneeze on the food, that's disgusting."

"It is the food, smartass."

He'd known that, he just wanted to mess with her. He returned her look of fond exasperation with a grin. The foods she made when she visited always sounded weird, but tasted amazing. One of the benefits of having a sister studying to be a chef. In his opinion her cooking was even better than their mom's, though, for fear of his life, he would never voice that sentiment out loud.

"What's jackeznickel?" Tulip asked.

"Jajecznica." Her correction was completely ignored, as it always was. "Slices of fried Italian sausage, egg scrambled with parsley, mixed herbs and tomato, and potato pancakes served with sour cream. Also a side of fried veggies."

Jaune began salivating as she brought the delicious smelling food over to the table. His three younger sisters also perked up, the sleepiness fading from their faces. He moaned as he took his first bite; this was truly the food of the gods.

He blinked. Actually…

Observe.

Jajecznica

A dish originating from rural Vale. Cooked by an experienced chef using potatoes, eggs, sausage, herbs, spices and various other ingredients.

The rather bland description didn't properly capture the magnificence of the food. Jaune was disappointed to see that it didn't offer any special effects like Mr Brunt's coffee had. At least it still tasted good.

As he went to take another bite, he caught Diane looking at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

"What?"

The others glanced up from their plates curiously. Diane shook her head. "Nothing, it's just…" She gave him a glance over. "Puberty hit you like a dump truck."

Jaune, Holly and Tulip frowned in confusion. Macie had already resumed stuffing her face. "Huh?"

"You've gotten bigger since the last time I was here. You look more...," she squinted and made a small explosion motion with her hand, "filled out." The two triplets switched their gazes to him, before glancing doubtfully at each other. Jaune made a mental note to steal their food later.

"I don't know," Diane said, shrugging. "You just look more like dad, is all."

Jaune glanced away, once more reminded of what he had to do later. The food in his mouth lost some of its splendour.

Diane seemed to sense she had hit a nerve and quickly changed the topic of conversation. The rest of breakfast was spent catching up on what had happened in everyone's lives since she had last visited, which was before Jaune had received the Gamer's Reality.

"Nothing much," he responded when asked.

After he'd cleared his plate, he went back upstairs to get changed and brush his teeth, passing Claire on her way down. He put on some old jeans and a t-shirt before slowly making his way to the bathroom (of which the other family members had only recently resumed their use of). He brushed his teeth, making sure to carefully scrub every nook and cranny. He didn't bother with his hair; it always reverted back to its unruly mop. Five minutes later he was standing outside his father's forge, working up the courage to go inside. Eventually he sighed, knocked on the door and walked in without giving himself time to chicken out.

The forge looked like a mechanic's garage - if that particular mechanic was in the habit of keeping heavy ordinance and deadly weapons strewn all over the benches that lined the walls. The building was well lit, with open windows lining the walls all around. The actual forge itself was the only area kept in shadow, sitting in an alcove at the opposite end of the workshop. Wooden boards covered the walls, sporting a variety of different tools. There must have been seven different kinds of hammers, each with different sizes. Large pieces of heavy machinery, as well as a few tables, filled in the otherwise empty space in the middle of the building. They sat in a layer of loose sand, which Jaune's father had once explained helped to quickly cool off any hot metal that fell to the floor.

Both his dad and Lily were at one of the tables in the middle of the room, busy setting out a bunch of tools and small metal pieces. They looked up at his entrance, both with surprised expressions.

"Jaune?" His dad asked. "What are you doing here?" He could hear the slight discomfort in his voice. He also saw how his father's eyes quickly darted around the room, as if looking for escape routes.

Jaune opened his mouth to speak, before glancing uneasily at Lily and shutting it. "Could we talk for a bit?" he asked, mirroring his father's awkwardness.

"Oh, uh…" He paused, as if actually considering saying no. "Sure, sure."

"...Outside?'

He gave a small start. "Right, right of course," he said, navigating his way through the maze of machinery. Jaune half turned back to the door. He didn't miss the way his father looked back at a curious Lily, a plea for help written all over his face.

Once they were both outside, Jaune suddenly lost whatever courage was pushing him forward. He glanced away from his father's equally awkward eyes and fidgeted with his hands, while Malcolm crossed his arms and scuffed at the ground with his foot.

Eventually he managed to regain his voice.

"Could I... um… could I help out in the forge today?"

His father looked visibly surprised. "You want to help? Why?" he asked, before wincing at how blunt that had sounded. "I mean-"

Jaune hurriedly waved his attempted recovery away. "It's fine, it's fine!" Oum, this was awkward. He wanted to get this over with. "Look…" he sighed. "You remember I was acting a bit moody a few weeks ago?" Malcolm's blank look said he did not. "The day I got into that fight at school?"

"Ah, that." Impossibly, his dad's expression grew even more uncomfortable. "If this is about your emotions being all out of whack, then it's got to do with that talk we had when you started-"

"I remember the talk, dad," Jaune said quickly. "It's not about that." He took a deep breath. "My english teacher is an ex-huntsman - " Malcolm's entire body immediately went rigid " - and that day he made a pretty convincing argument about why I should give up on being a huntsman."

His father's mouth was already half-way open to start arguing against whatever point he was trying to make, before he stopped and blinked. His mouth worked up and down as he tried and failed to formulate a response. "What?"

Jaune almost winced; he could feel guilt burrowing into his chest. Underneath the shock and disbelief in his dad's voice, there had been a faint note of hope, of relief. A small part of him felt indignant at these, but they were drowned out by the knowledge that he was flat-out lying to his father's face. Lying so he could… use him to unwittingly further an agenda he was firmly opposed to.

They might fight a lot, but Jaune loved the man and knew he was loved in return. No matter how much they screamed at and argued with each other, there was always the concrete understanding that they were family and there was nothing that could be said or done that wouldn't eventually be forgiven.

Except maybe this. This… this was betraying him in the worst way possible.

Jaune felt sick as he saw the hope spread across his father's face; he was doing a really terrible thing right now. The guilt burrowed deeper.

Yet it didn't stop him.

"He told me a story about one of his missions as a huntsman. He was guarding a town when it was invaded," Jaune said. The words were true, but filled with deceit. "He didn't pull any punches. He described exactly what happened and how it happened." They tasted horrible in his mouth. "It… it wasn't anything like what I thought it was. It was horrible - a nightmare. Since then I've been researching other places that have been destroyed by the Grimm." He looked away. "There's a lot. And all of it is just… ugly." That was also true; it was the reason he had to do this. He couldn't just look at all of that, knowing he had the ability to help, and turn away.

That was just what he had to make his dad believe he was doing.

Malcolm still looked shocked. "So… so you've…"

Jaune looked him in the eye for the first time. "Maybe you're right, dad. Maybe I shouldn't be a huntsman. I don't know what I'm going to do in the future, but I thought," he gestured to the forge, "why not give this a try." He paused for a bit. "So… so can you teach me?"

Malcolm was silent for a while. Slowly, a beaming grin started stretching across his face. "Are you sure? It's going to be hard work, and there's a lot to learn."

Jaune nodded. It might be a while before he could get a better weapon, but if he could learn how to make one himself, from a huntsman weaponsmith no less, then it would be well worth the wait.

Malcolm looked unbelievably happy. He straightened up from a slouch Jaune hadn't noticed had been there and seemed to regain some youth. Still wearing that stupidly-happy grin, he took two steps forward and enveloped his son in a hug, surprising Jaune. After a moment or two of not knowing how to react, he tentatively relaxed and hugged back. Pushing away the guilt and self-loathing for a moment, he allowed himself to be close to his father for the first time in a long time.

Ping!

Jaune was only a few inches shorter than his dad. He opened his eyes and peered at the notification over the man's shoulder.

New skill created!

Lying Lv. 1 (0.0%)

The art of deceit, as old as the concept of communication itself. Whether it be an omission, half-truth, bluff, bald-faced lie or simply a misleading statement, its chances of successfully convincing someone of something other than the truth depends on this skill.

20% chance of successfully lying.

Ping!

Due to successfully executing a well-crafted lie, skill 'Lying' has leveled up twice.

Lying Lv. 3 (31.6%)

The art of deceit, as old as the concept of communication itself. Whether it be an omission, half-truth, bluff, bald-faced lie or simply a misleading statement, its chances of successfully convincing someone of something other than the truth depends on this skill.

30% chance of successfully lying.

The guilt came rushing back in full force. For the first time, Jaune wasn't happy about receiving a new skill.

They seperated and Malcolm lead Jaune back into the forge, his stupid grin not leaving his face. Once they were back at the table where a bemused Lily sat, he set about explaining to Jaune what they were doing and what all the little tools and metal pieces were for. Apparently, one of the huntsmen had damaged the deployable shield that was fixed into the haft of his harpoon-spear (it looked as ridiculous as it sounded). The metal segments that made up the shield were badly warped and dented, even punctured in some places. Jaune's job was to help his sister remove the damaged plates from the frame they were fixed to, while Malcom made replacements in the forge. It sounded like a simple enough task, but the way the segments were attached to the frame was so complicated and awkward that it took him nearly ten minutes to just detach one, even with Lily's constant and mildly waspish instruction. It seemed she didn't like him intruding into her territory.

Another twenty minutes later, and Jaune all but fled the now sweltering workshop, his shirt drenched in sweat. Even with all the open windows, the forge emitted an insane amount of heat, which made any sort of work more difficult than it had any right to be. It felt like he was trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle while sitting on the lip of an active volcano. Bursting into the kitchen, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water before guzzling it down.

"Whoa, what happened to you?"

He turned to see Saffron, Diane and Claire, as well as their mother, sitting at the table, all frowning at him. Claire had paused with a piece of sausage poised halfway to her mouth.

"I'm helping Dad and Lily out in the forge," he said as he refilled the glass.

"Oh?" His mom asked with interest, eyebrows raising. Her gaze was suddenly sharp and focused completely on him. She, more than anyone, knew of the tension that had existed between father and son; it irritated her to no end. "What brought this on?"

The door opened and Macie walked into the room, one of her coloring books tucked under her arm. The way his mom casually pulled out the chair next to her for the girl without turning her intense eyes from her son was quite eerie.

Jaune wasn't entirely sure how to answer her. He knew this was one of those inexplicable times when she was asking a question that wasn't actually the one that left her mouth, but he didn't know what it was. "We had a talk," he said slowly, uncomfortable with the way she was staring at him.

He must have answered whatever she was silently asking, because the corners of her mouth turned up in a gentle smile and her eyes lost their intensity. She gestured to the glass in his hand. "Make sure you take some back for them as well."

He was halfway through nodding when his eyes hooked onto the cover of Macie's coloring book. The glass slipped through his suddenly nerveless fingers as horror washed over his features.

That… that was not a coloring book.

He ignored the startled shouts and exclamations as the glass shattered on the floor. 'How? How?! That was in my freaking inven-!'

To his further horror, Jaune remembered that he had taken the magazine his baby sister was currently perusing with childish innocence out of his inventory the night before and had failed to return it once he had… finished reading. She must have found it laying in his room somewhere.

"Jaune, what -!"

Saffron abruptly cut herself off as she followed his gaze. Her eyes widened in shock and her mouth fell open to form an 'O', before her head whipped back around to give him the most expressive 'You-done-fucked-up' look he had ever seen. He was too busy watching their mother to agree with her. By now everyone else had taken notice of what the little girl was looking through and were staring with various states of shock and horror on their faces. She was looking back with wide, innocent eyes that were wondering what was going on.

"Sweetie?" Vanessa asked, a stiff look on her face. "Where did you get that?" Her words were clipped and forced through clenched teeth born in some terrifying facsimile of a smile.

Before the thought of running could even occur to Jaune, Macie gave a cute little tilt to her head and effectively sentenced him to death.

"Jaune's room. What is it, mommy? Why are these ladies naked?"

At that moment, Jaune wished he had never left the blistering heat of the forge. It was cooler than the look his mother was currently leveling at him.

'I am so fucked.'

〜 Line Break 〜

"Five…"

Jaune hated Marcus. He hated him. At first the man had just been a dickhead, but with every training session that went by his resemblance to the Dark Brother grew.

"Four…"

He reached his Support Tree, so named because it helped keep him standing in times such as these. He was grateful to it for the numerous times it had prevented him from falling into a puddle of his own puke.

"Three…"

As fast as he could, Jaune spat out whatever bile had gathered in his mouth. There was nothing left in his stomach to properly throw up.

"Two…"

He spat one last time, before pushing away from the trunk. His quivering legs struggled to keep him upright.

"One."

He regained his balance just in time to block Marcus' kick to his head, but failed to even react to the follow up side kick he drove into his stomach.

He staggered backwards with stiff, jerky movements, paused, then turned around and rushed back to the support tree.

Marcus let out a world-weary sigh as the sound retching filled the air.

"Five…"

〜 Line Break 〜

"You look like squashed shit, kid."

"Yeah, well that makes two of us, and my case is only temporary." Normally, Jaune wouldn't have dared snark at a teacher like that, but he was in no mood to entertain. Luckily Mr Brunt seemed to be amused rather than offended.

"He's working you hard then?" He asked with a chuckle as he took a sip from his mug.

"He's killing me!" Jaune threw his hands up in the air, coffee sloshing out of his own. "I've done nothing but get beaten black and blue for nearly two weeks now! If he's not pummeling me, he's making me do five hundred pushups-" Mr Brunt gave him a doubtful look, which was met with a glare. "Five. Hundred. I wish I were exaggerating."

Mr Brunt's lips twitched and he hurriedly took a sip of his coffee. "Well you've certainly bulked up a bit."

"He's relentless!" Jaune cried, continuing as if he hadn't spoken. "Sometimes we'll spend the entire session sparring. Do you have any idea how broken you feel after four hours of non-stop abuse!?"

The teacher's unimpressed look said Jaune was presenting macaroni art to Picasso, not that he noticed.

"He doesn't stop! If my aura breaks, he just hits harder! I fall, and he kicks me until I get up! If I need to puke, which is often, he gives me five seconds before he attacks again! And he counts really fast, so it's not even five seconds - more like two and a-!"

"Oum above, kid, shut the hell up."

Jaune's mouth snapped closed in instinctual obedience, before his free will caught up to him and he scowled. He opened his mouth to tell Mr Brunt that, no, he would not shut up, but was silenced as the man drew a short, sharp line through the air with his prosthetic, the metal clanking softly.

"Nah ah, not another word. Drink your coffee and calm down."

Once again he tried to protest, and once again he was prematurely cut off as his teacher gave him a warning look. Grumbling, he took a long gulp of his coffee. It's taste hadn't improved any, but like Mr Brunt had claimed, he had gotten used to it. It actually helped to keep him going nowadays. Between Marcus' hellish training, his lessons in smithing with his dad and his increased efforts toward school, Jaune was feeling a bit stretched thin.

He breathed out and took another sip, his face crinkling slightly out of habit.

"You better?"

He nodded, eyes fixed on his cup. "Yeah."

"This is what you signed up for. You aren't thinking of giving up, are you?"

Jaune gave him an affronted look. "No, of course not."

"And you're not expecting me to to speak up on your behalf?"

"No." Although now that he thought about it...

"Then what exactly are you hoping to accomplish with all this complaining?"

Jaune frowned. "Nothing. I'm just venting."

Mr Brunt gave him a piercing stare, before sighing. "Tell me, Arc, what do you think is humanity's most valuable characteristic?"

Jaunes mind immediately flashed to his stats. Those six attributes had come to epitomise what strength was to him. The electricity that swept through his body whenever he gained a point in DEX, VIT or STR had become addicting, and the clarity that each increase in INT and WIS brought was… freeing. Each one allowed his mind to soar higher, gaining a greater perspective on everything. He wasn't any smarter than the average student, but compared to where he had first been, it was a huge improvement. LUC had yet to really do anything for him; in fact, if the incident with Macie and his porn was any indication, it was failing him.

Jaune ignored the tiny little voice in his head that said simply being unlucky wasn't the only possibility.

Then again, he hadn't really invested in the stat that much, and it was pretty low. He'd have to change that at some point. He shook his head and refocused on the question.

"Our intelligence?" he ventured. That was the one thing that separated them from animals. It's what had allowed them to develop and advance throughout the ages.

Mr Brunt hummed in the back of his throat. "Well, you're not wrong. It's a matter of opinion really, but I believe that when faced with adversity, there's really only two things a person can do."

Jaune leant forward in his chair.

"They can either adapt themselves to suit the situation, or adapt the situation to suit themselves. You understand?"

Jaune thought about it for a second, then slowly nodded. They had covered adaptation in biology a while back. Certain species developed specialised characteristics to better survive in particular environments. Camouflage to hide from predator or prey, body hair to regulate temperature, a third eyelid to protect from pollutants in the air, etc. Humans and faunus were unique in that they were the only species in the world who adapted their environment to suit them. They didn't have claws or teeth to hunt with (at least the humans didn't) so they made weapons. They lacked enough body hair to survive freezing temperatures, so they stole the skins of animals who did. They built tools, planted crops and constructed cities. From the beginning that was how they had dealt with their problems; by adapting.

"Now, in this case the situation isn't likely to change. Marcus is going to keep doing what he's doing until he decides otherwise. That leaves you. The only way you can make things better for yourself is by making yourself better. Grit your teeth and take whatever comes at you on the chin."

Jaune nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. The bell rang, signaling the end of his lunch period. Glancing down at his nearly empty mug with a grimace, Jaune threw his head back and drained the last dregs, finishing a cup for the first time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, sir," he said as he grabbed his things. He ran through his mental schedule and sighed at what he found. "I've got biology now."

Mr Brunt sat up a little straighter in his chair. "With Danielle, right?"

Jaune frowned. "You mean Ms Clemen?"

"Yes, her."

"Yeah, she's my teacher. Why?"

"You came up in a conversation once; something about Supressionist war camps. What's that about?"

Jaune paled. "Nothing, sir. Nothing at all."

~ Line Break ~

Jaune stared from the sitting room doorway, entranced. He'd seen his mother do this countless times and had never given it a second thought, but now, as he watched her fingers dance and weave while her body gently swayed from side to side, he couldn't look away. For the first time, he actually heard the music in the air, and it was beautiful.

He continued to watch, his own fingers twitching along with hers. When eventually the final notes faded into the air, he spoke up.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?" Vanessa lowered the violin from her neck and looked up.

"Could you show me how to do that, please?"

AN: Whew! Finally! It's been awhile, but the new chapter is finally here. Two people have reviewed asking for an update, and I actually found that to be uplifting, knowing that people like this story so much. Then I felt guilty for leaving you guys hanging for so long. I entered a short story competition run by a publishing company, and just finished my entry yesterday, so that's the main reason for the delay.

Let me tell you guys, writing original works is much harder than Fanfiction. It took me a week to write a 3000 word story, but I finished it and I think it has a chance of winning. First prize is R5000 (about 300 with the current exchange rate) and second and third place both get half that.

This chapter is basically Jaune adjusting to his new life. We see more of his abilities and interaction with his family (prepare for drama). The next chapter will be similar, but with a bit more action.

Now, reviews!

Blackgold Night: I especially enjoyed reading your reviews. You gave some good advice as to the relationship aspect of this fic, as well as some helpful criticism. You seem like you have some real sass and I love people like that. I hope you continue contributing!

Guest: Not sure who this is, but you also gave some good relationship advice, spread across two reviews. You even mentioned some things I had been thinking of myself.

armentho: I want Gamer's Body to be more of a reflection of his physical state than a skill that actually does anything. Converting injuries and physical abilities into numbers is where I want to draw the line, otherwise Jaune could just recover from the brink of death by sleeping in a comfortable bed. He does recover from injuries rather quickly, but that's mostly due to his aura and natural healing process. The other parts of your review were valuable.

Adrium: Thanks for pointing out the superhero wiki. There is a lot to go through.

There were others of course, but these are the ones that stood out. All of your thoughts and opinions are appreciated.

Lastly, I have some questions relevant to the story.

People with two moms/dads (or you know someone who does), how do you distinguish between your parents when talking to a third party? Like, if you say, "My dad/mom is coming to pick me up." How does the other person know which parent you're talking about? Do you call them by name, or say something like "Mom Jennifer is coming to pick me up?"

I've been crunching the numbers in my head, and this story is going to be massive. Maybe even over a million words. That said, would you guys prefer it all in one big story, or separated into a series? There's not much difference in the end, but just thought I'd ask. If I were to split it up into separate books, Jaune would only get to beacon in book two.

Let me know what you guys think in a review!

Cheers!