Capítulo 106: My OC Stash #6 - Forged Destiny by Cœur Al’Aran (RWBY)

-A completed RPG based RWBY fic with levels and classes. Jaune is an NPC blacksmith pretending to be a knight pretending to be a hero~ Weak to Strong type fic!

*The whole fic honestly reminds me of Log Horizon, they got the whole guild, quests going on as well~

Sypnosis: Jaune had always dreamed of being a Hero, of being someone. But dreams were just that; for in the world of Remnant the Class you are born with determines your fate. Jaune was born a Blacksmith, and thus that was his destiny. But when a strange opportunity allows him to change that, can a simple Blacksmith become something more within the Beacon Academy for Heroes?

Rated: T

Words: 1109K(´･Д･)」

Posted on: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12044591/1/ (Cœur Al'Aran)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (*´ー｀*)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1+2 (exceptional)

What was it that made a Hero?

It was a question I'd always asked myself, something that had taunted me from when I was younger, it continued to do so even now. Was it their arms and armour, the trappings of what made up those who would stand against the darkness?

If so, then the shimmering form of Crocea Mors, which lay against the mattress, should have been enough. The straight-edged blade gleamed, fresh from the forge with not a kill to its name. I'd forged it myself. In the Arc Family shop, under the careful scrutiny of my father, though I doubt he had expected me to use it like this. To my eyes it was a good blade… the Quality ranked as such, with a Keen Edge modifier that meant it had extra cutting power. It was perhaps the best I could have ever forged… I was only level twelve at the time, after all. I still was level twelve... it had been less than a week ago.

Atop the ruffled bed sheets lay the blade's companions. A silver breastplate and interlocking steel tassets, small wisps of blue cloth drifting from the cold metal. Those had been a chore themselves, the steel difficult to work with… many had come out flawed, but I'd pushed on until Lady Luck smiled. I'd even gained some good Experience from it all, though not enough to push me any further. Routine tasks, and to a Blacksmith the act of crafting with common materials was just that, didn't give much in the way of Exp.

Wearing them, it was easy to forget who I was. It was easy to put aside the name of Jaune the Blacksmith, and fall into the new name I had given myself. Jaune of Arc, or Jaune Arc for short. It was a name more befitting a Hero.

But the forged blade and armour did not make me a Hero, nor did the name. Anyone could have put them on, anybody could pretend to be a different person in the comfort and sanctity of their own home, to be something more than they actually were.

Was a Hero someone who was willing to stand up for what they believed in, against all convention or risk to themselves? Had I not done that in coming to Vale, in leaving behind my family and the promise of an easy life? My hands shook, as they had for the last week. The world was new and exciting, but also filled with danger. I wasn't ready, I knew that to be true, but time waited for no one. If a Hero was someone who was unafraid to make decisions in the face of danger, then surely that was myself… for death was all that awaited me should I fail. Blue eyes caught mine in the mirror. The figure there pale and afraid. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but for the knowledge that he – that I – had no answer.

Those were not the eyes of a Hero. They were the eyes of a man in over his head, of someone who knew the folly of their actions but was now locked unto that path. Did that make that man brave, for risking his life on something that was not only foolish but also highly illegal? Did that make him heroic, or simply stupid?

Either way, that didn't make him a Hero. It didn't make me a Hero.

The chair creaked beneath me, bare feet padded across the cool wooden floor of the inn's bedroom. Cheap, linen curtains brushed aside – sharp rays of morning light caressing skin as my eyes looked out over the waking city of Vale. From the third floor of the shady inn it was possible to see the transformation that took place. The change from squat, ugly, wooden houses to taller red-roofed residential districts crafted from stone and marble. In the distance, towering above them all, the conical spires and towers of the Beacon Academy for Heroes. My destination.

Those who graduated had the right to truly call themselves Heroes, protectors of the people, the land and the Kingdom of Vale. All tales began somewhere… and for many, Beacon was that location.

Perhaps one day they would tell a tale about Jaune Arc? It would remain to be seen whether that would be a rousing ballad of courage and audacity or a cautionary warning for those who dared reach too far. Once more the bile rose up, once more I forced it down. Fear was good, or so my father always said. It told you when you were about to do something stupid, when you needed to stop and think things through. I didn't need the emotion to tell me this was a bad idea. This was against the law, it was against custom – it was against the natural order, for crying out loud. People did not do this.

It just wasn't done.

The linen fell back across the cracked window, doing little to diffuse the sunlight that streamed into the cramped room. The mattress gave way, sending up a cloud of dust as I tugged one boot on and then the other. The normality of it allowed me some distraction, as I focused on the simple task of lacing the leather straps shut. But it couldn't last for long. The day had already begun, and I had a destiny to reach. The armour - my armour - called to me.

Buckles snapped, leather creaked. First the breastplate as it locked over my shoulders with a simple click, then the tassets, which connected onto the bottom half of the armour. The metal clinked gently against my thighs. A blue tabard flowed down between my legs, a faint crescent moon emblazoned upon the bottom in rich, golden weave. It felt pretentious, even now. There was no House Arc, no family which bore than name, and thus no emblem to represent them. Why I'd settled on the shattered moon, I had no idea. Some grain of truth, a hint, or just the first thing I'd thought of while staring into the night sky?

Leather flexed as I pushed my hands into the vambraces, wriggling fingers to test the interlocking pieces of metal. It felt awkward, heavy… but not dangerously so. It was something I'd have to get used to, if I wanted to make this work.

It was Crocea Mors herself that felt the heaviest, though. The leather handle was hard and unrelenting, the blade even more so. My face reflected in the steel as it was held up before me. That face still looked afraid, but there was also a certain rigidness to the jaw… was I really gritting my teeth that hard? The pain in my gums as I forced myself to relax said I was. This couldn't continue… I was to be a Hero. I couldn't look like I was ready to flee at the first opportunity.

But I wasn't a Hero. I knew that.

And it wasn't because of the armour, nor any bravery, courage, history or motives. It wasn't because I was a liar, because I wasn't strong enough – nor because I was only level twelve. The simple fact was; I wasn't a Hero because the words that floated above my head said I wasn't.

Jaune, they read. And beneath that a single word… Blacksmith.

It was the Class I'd been born with, and it was the Class that I'd carry into my grave. I was a Blacksmith, as my father's was – and his father before him. There was no changing that irredeemable fact of life… some were born Warriors, others Mages, Archers or Paladins. Some were born Shopkeepers, Farmers or Blacksmiths. There was no use railing against it. The world was neither cruel nor kind, it simply was.

But as the unusual medallion I'd found slipped over my neck, coming to hide behind the steel of my breastplate, the words began to shimmer and change. I'd seen it before of course… with how much was relying on it, I'd tested it a thousand times. Yet each and every time it left my throat dry, as I waited for it to fail and expose me as the fraud I was. The words were different now… my Class wasn't different, I could still feel the skills and stats of the Blacksmith I was. But to the world outside, I was no longer that person.

To the world outside; I was a Knight.

The simple word mocked me. As though it existed to taunt me with the truth of what I could never become… of what I was about to try and pretend to be. Crocea Mors rasped as it slid into the dark scabbard that hung from my hip. The kite shield clipped onto the leather straps across my back, it weighed down on me – or was it just that the enormity of what I was about to do that was so heavy on my shoulders?

For the sake of curiosity my eyes closed, breath evening as my statistics came into my mind.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Jaune

Level 12

Blacksmith

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Str: 22

Con: 21

Dex: 10

Agi: 11

Int: 15

Wis: 14

Cha: 9

Res: 19

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

If anyone else could see those, then it would have been indication enough that I wasn't the Knight my title made me out to be. The distribution was all wrong, even I could tell that – limited as my knowledge was. I had the statistics of someone born to sit at an anvil and strike metal all day. Intelligent enough to know the composite breakdown of ores, but what use was Dexterity for striking something that didn't dodge? Even my Skills and my Passive, the one true ability I could call my own, only served the role of a Blacksmith. Not to mention that Charisma… no doubt this was why dad had gone and married mum, who was of the Shopkeeper Class. Her Charisma was through the roof… she kept the family fed, selling the wares dad made for good profit. A match made in heaven. I could just as easily have been a Shopkeeper as a Blacksmith. Neither had appealed to me. I wanted to be something more, I wanted to go on adventures and Quests.

I wanted to be a Hero.

Heh, it was almost funny. I still didn't know what made a Hero. Which meant I had no idea how I was supposed to act come Beacon Academy. Perhaps that was something that could be discovered, however. Hopefully before some great mistake revealed me.

"It's time to become a Hero," the words were weak, whispered and hoarse. "It's time to become a Hero," I tried again. Stronger this time, still afraid – but not quite so brittle. I'd have to learn fast. Because as the great bell tolled out over the city, I realised there was no time left. Jaune Arc would become a Hero… or he'd die trying.

That I accepted the fact… did that make me a Hero?

Or just a fool?

I'd like to have a quick mention here that this fic is not, and has never been intended as, a crossover with The Gamer, TGWP, or any other fics like that. Nor is it a crossover with SAO or whatever else, which I'm sure some may comment at in coming chapters. Similarly, lore, rules and exposition will be explained through dialogue and interactions, and I will not be info-dumping things in author's notes or dedicated explanation chapters.

The entire world here is an RPG-based Remnant. But they are not "playing" it, they are living in it.

So in some ways you won't have the full picture of how things work initially, but will come to learn them along with Jaune. That said, much of it is an original concept, so it's not worth listing similarities to things like Gamer, WoW, Sao or other things. Remnant here works on other rules. Which will be covered in time. Similarly at this point, the stats what they all mean might not make sense (though obviously they will likely be recognised).

Chapter 2

The city of Vale was alive. Not in the conventional sense of the buildings or streets themselves, which would have taken some pretty serious magic – but in the way the cobbled roads bustled with activity. Heroes were coming and apparently, that brought with it attention.

I wasn't sure if it was a regular thing, perhaps it was just what took place on the first day, a chance to see the heroes of tomorrow when they were still young. Either way I attracted my fair share of attention as I made my way down packed roads. It was honestly kind of embarrassing. People reached out to touch my armour, some shouted words of encouragement, others simply waved and cheered. Hell, at one point a little girl came rushing out in front of me, just to hand over a small flower and run away.

I'd never been so humiliated in my life. Not that it was only me getting the attention, there were a few others behind and ahead of me, with backpacks and suitcases, making their way towards the Academy. Some of them waved back and smiled, while others looked more like myself; nervous, uncertain and reserved.

It was the most important day of their lives… of our lives. I was one of them now. Had to try and remember that. Grit and bear it – that was all I could do. As one foot was forced before the other, drawing me inexorably closer to what represented both my doom and salvation. Excitement and anticipation warred within me. I didn't know whether I should feel happy or sick – and it had somehow merged into something altogether worse.

But as the stone and wood buildings gave way, as red-slated rooftops surrendered their dominion to bright, blue sky – the crowds began to disperse. I think it was most obvious when the cobbled path beneath me became pristine, white marble. Rows of stalls and shouting figures became green gardens, rich with vibrant flowers and trees in full bloom.

The tall, twisting towers of Beacon stood before me, like the claws of some gargantuan beast tearing a chunk from the sky itself. I'd never seen something so huge in my life, it was incredible! Some of the buildings had domed ceilings, others were tall and long, with triangular roofs that seemed to carry on forever. The windows too, tall and bright with stained glass that depicted incredible scenes of brave Heroes defeating great beasts. Cowered behind said Hero were huddled and frightened figures, no doubt civilians, farmers and such. People like me.

It was too much. Everything was too much – and far too soon. I wasn't one of them, I never would be – at most I could aspire to fire the glass that went into those windows, or maybe smith the frames that held them in place. Yet here I was, about to walk inside with people so far above me, and try to become one of them?

It was insane! I was insane!

I could still go back. I could give up this stupid idea and go home. No one would say anything, hell, no one would even have to know! I took a step back, eyes still locked onto the imposing Academy.

"Sorry," someone mumbled as I bumped into them. A hand touched my shoulder, pushing me gently aside as a feminine figure walked by. Long legs, a rich red skirt and black blazer – she had an ornate bow slung over one shoulder, with a quiver of arrows attached to the back of her hip. The word "Archer" was visible above her brown hair. The girl turned at the last second, dark shades slipping down her nose as she winked.

A student… a student of Beacon! Not a new aspirant like myself, but an honest-to-goodness returning student. A Hero. A real one! Holy crap, it was actually the first one I'd ever seen so close up – and she'd walked by. No, she'd touchedme – hell, she talked to me!

And then, while I was still trying to process the majesty of that, another walked by – and then another. Until it was a tide, walking past me, each making their way towards the school. My head swam. Warriors, Archers, Mages, I even saw some more esoteric Classes like Enchanter and Paladin. Some were in the same uniform as the girl from earlier, but most were more like me – wearing whatever they had to hand. Armour, cloth, leather – all in different colours and designs.

To see so many in one place, it was absolutely incredible. Ten, no twenty, it kept coming, thirty… fifty – okay, this was getting a little out of hand. There's hundreds of them! How am I supposed to have any chance here if so many people show up to apply!?

The entire road was full! I'd arrived early, mostly because I'd been so excited I couldn't sleep, but this was more than I'd expected. No wonder the Academy was so big, but even then… there were so many people around me!

"Excuse me, sorry, excuse me!" a young voice gasped from behind, right as a pair of hands slapped onto my armour. I hadn't even half-turned when she had pushed by, a cloaked figure far shorter than me trying to make her way through the crowd. She bounced from person to person, being knocked left, right and centre as she tried to ride the turbulent waves of men and women. It was like seeing a leaf tossed about in a storm. Or maybe a rose petal, given the colour of her clothing.

But leaf or petal, they all reached the ground eventually. I winced as she did, slamming into the back of a much larger and heavier figure, before collapsing onto the hard marble path. People didn't even pause for her, walking past like she was a rock in the middle of a raging river.

Well, it looked like someone's morning was going as well as my own. I probably shouldn't have found that comforting, but I did. Misery loves company and right now I was feeling pretty miserable.

No excuse for being an ass, though.

"Need a hand?" I asked, having walked up to stand beside her, arm outstretched. I thought she'd looked small before… but from up close I realised that didn't even hit close. She was tiny! A small, round, pale face set in crimson cloth – with large silver eyes that blinked up at me. They flickered once, twice, before going wide.

"T-Thanks!" I couldn't actually feel her hand in mine as I took it, not with the thick, leather gloves on. But I imagined it was as soft as it was small, dwarfed in my palm as I dragged her up. A life made for working at a heavy forge helped with that, my Strength more than enough to carry her if I had to. Was this little girl really a Hero?

She jumped free, ducking off the main path as she quickly patted down her red and black clothing. Was that a tunic of some kind, or a skirt? "I didn't expect it to be so crowded here, and my sis just up and abandoned me. Sorry about running into you."

Wait, she was talking to me? Well duh, who else was she supposed to be talking to? I really was bad with girls… okay, to be honest I was bad with talking to anyone. I'd blame it on my low Charisma, but truth was; it was more just me being an awkward teenager. I hurried out of the crowd to stand beside her, desperate for the distraction. "Yeah," I agreed – because at this point she could have told me the sky was green and I'd have said yes just to keep the conversation going. "I can't believe how many people are here… it's ridiculous."

"Well, this is Beacon isn't it?" She laughed and hopped on one foot. It kind of made me think of a rose petal again, though not in any poetic sense. More like how jittery she was, as though she might be blown away at any moment. "Everyone wants to come to Beacon. It's like the place to become a Hero in Vale. You only get one chance after all."

"One chance?" What was this, I hadn't heard anything about one chance! Well, I mean why would I have – I wasn't actually a Hero, but still… one would have thought this would be common knowledge!

"Eh? You didn't know?" She looked at me like I was gone out, but it wasn't like I hadn't prepared for this kind of thing.

"Actually, I was raised among a Blacksmith's family," well it wasn't a lie, was it? "So I don't actually know much about being a Hero or anything; definitely not the rules of Beacon. I just know I had to be here to become one." The perfect catch-all excuse for any mistakes I made. It might not stand up to intense scrutiny, but I figured it would make a pretty good way to get out of any awkward conversations.

"Ohhh," she sounded impressed – which was kinda weird. "Are you one of those people whose distant relative was a Knight? Or were you orphaned and raised by them?"

"Uhh… the first one?" And she knew I was a Knight already? Oh sheesh, of course – it was floating above my head. That was something I'd probably have to get used to, and with a quick flick my eyes darted up to read hers. Ruby, and below that, Reaper.

What the hell was a Reaper?

"Uh… so, you don't know how the Caste system works?"

"I know that," I fired back. I wasn't a complete idiot. You had the Noble Caste, the collection of Classes that represented ruling and governing roles and bodies. Then you had the Hero Caste, which had all the Hero-type classes like Archers, Knights, Mages and such. Then there was the Soldier Caste, which was the military.

And then there was the lowest Caste… my Caste.

"Okay, so… we're all in the Hero Caste, which means we get to go to Beacon – or another school if you're in a different Kingdom. But that's a lot of people. Way more than a single school can handle. Plus, not everyone's made the same, right? Some will be weaker than others, some might not be determined enough to face the things Heroes need to face."

That didn't sound good. Not strong enough, yep – that pretty much described me to a tee. "So what happens to those people?"

"Well they get put into the Soldier Caste," the girl grimaced. "If you fail your First Quest then you get relegated to that Caste, no matter what your Class is. You have to serve in the military."

"They… force them?"

"Well… no… but I mean what other choice is there? It's not like you can go off and become a farmer. Who's going to hire a Hero over an actual Farmer? No one wants to be put down a Caste… it's the biggest shame ever – it makes you a failure. But what job can you get when there's a Class that can do it better?"

That… that was dark… I could go back and be a Blacksmith though, so I shouldn't have been as worried about it as I was. But for everyone else here, if they failed – their future would be crushed. Forced to accept being put down into a lower Caste, of being seen as an inferior citizen?

It suddenly made sense why so many of them looked as nervous as I felt. It made sense why no one had asked why I looked like a nervous wreck. I could already feel my thoughts of Heroes having it easy crumbling into dust.

"Oh! I'm Ruby Rose by the way," the girl's eyes were wide and she looked horrified. It was that little thing which made me laugh. The fact that she could act so upset that she'd forgotten to introduce herself. "I know it says it up there and everything but… well, my dad always gets on my case if I'm not polite."

"Same here," I laughed. Mum had always said it was no excuse not to introduce oneself. "The name's Jaune, Jaune Arc." I wanted to add Knight on the end, just to make it clear, but managed to hold myself back. "Nice to meet you, Ruby."

"You too! And thanks for helping me up." She grinned – and the gesture cheered me up a little too. "I guess that's what a Knight does though, right?"

Uh, yeah sure – that sounded like a good excuse to go with. Maybe this pretending business wouldn't be so tough after all. All I had to do was act like a chivalric Knight at every opportunity. Oh, and pass this no doubt horrifying and excruciating test that would determine whether I got to be a Hero or not. One that apparently loads of strong Heroes failed every year. No problem.

Maybe if I had a higher Charisma stat I'd have actually been able to convince myself.

"Hey Jaune?" I turned to my new friend, or at least I hoped she was. "I have to go find my sister, but we can talk later, right?"

"Definitely!" She wanted to talk to me? Okay, either she was insane, as awkward as I was, or I'd somehow managed to defy the very laws of Stats. I'd go for the middle option, though number one wasn't ruled out just yet. "See you around Ruby."

She dashed off, but made sure to turn and wave energetically at me before vanishing into the crowd. I waved back, though my arm slowly dropped as I was left alone once more. Well… that hadn't gone as badly as I'd feared. Maybe I would actually be able to make some friends here – if I was able to stay, that was.

-/-

The interior of the main building was as extravagant as the exterior, though it was definitely a lot smaller. I could see what Ruby meant about numbers, because there was no way this hall was meant to accommodate the three or four hundred teenagers squashed into it. At least I had armour to stop me from getting crushed. Though judging from the looks I was getting, those being squashed against me didn't appreciate that fact.

Would it have killed for any of them to be pretty girls either? Why did I have to be the meat in a manwich?

"Ahem," my attention was caught by the man who had strode up onto the main podium. I couldn't make out his name or Class from such a distance, but the way he commanded respect had me going silent as well. "You are the future of Vale," his voice was rich and low, "You are the future of more than just Vale, you are also the future of Remnant itself. But you believe that makes you the only such future, that there are not others who can rise to such an occasion. You are wrong. You are here today not because you are the future, but because you have the potential to protect that future - to guard those who need it most, those who rely on us for protection. Nothing will be handed to you, nothing will be gifted. Much will be expected. Perhaps should you stand before me once more tonight, I shall have different words for you. But for now I would ask you to direct your attention towards Miss Goodwitch, who will inform you of what may be the most important moment of your lives."

There was no applause as he stepped aside. My hands itched to clap, but the words had me shaking instead. My only solace was that I wasn't alone in that fact. We were all scared. Ruby's words came back to me… this was the first and only chance I'd have.

"In one hour we will depart for your First Quest," the blonde woman who had taken centre stage was tall and elegant, dressed in a thick black shawl that fell to her feet. I still couldn't make out her Class, but it had to be a Mage-based one of some kind. She waved one hand, and somehow managed to cast a projection on the wall behind her. It was a map. "This is a ruined and abandoned village fourteen miles out from Vale, the name is unimportant; for it fell over three years ago to a freak Elder-Grimm spawn." My skin paled. We weren't going to be asked to face something like that, were we? No wonder so many failed their First Quest! "This Grimm was killed soon after by responding Heroes, but not before it had managed to spawn Grimm throughout the village. Though the residents were evacuated, the King declared the village unfit for habitation. Until now."

She turned back to us, a small wand of some kind in hand. "Your First Quest will be to aid in the reclamation of this village for the betterment of Vale. Though abandoned, structures and fortifications are still in place which will make the rebuilding effort far simpler. Even the ruined buildings will remove the need for transporting large quantities of raw material across contested land. The task of every prospective student here is to enter the village and kill every Grimm in the area. The resulting combat will doubtless spawn more, thus you will be required to hold the village as well. The Quest will not come to an end until every Grimm in the vicinity has been slain. If you are hurt, or do not believe you can hold, you have the choice of falling back to the point you will enter the village from. This will count as a failure, however. I suggest you use your single hour well, for this will determine much of your future. Until that time, you all have free reign of this hall and the grounds outside. I wish you all good luck."

She walked briskly from the stage, probably trying to avoid having to listen to the explosion of noise that was bound to come. I wasn't proven wrong either. For the moment she left through a door and it clicked shut, shouts and cries sounded everywhere.

Not that I wasn't one of them. Crap, crap, crap – this was bad. I'd thought the test would be general knowledge or something, or maybe they would look through the Classes and select the ones they thought were best. But live combat against Grimm? I was only level twelve! Well, and I was a Blacksmith, but that wasn't the point.

Someone jostled me from the side, another pushed from in front – the crowd was getting out of control and I could just imagine being crushed beneath them. Nothing was going to get achieved in here, so with a grunt and some muttered apologies, I started to push my way towards one of the doors. It was like swimming, except that the water tended to hit back, growl and generally be a pain in the ass – but after a good minute or so I finally managed to open the door and slip out into the warm, morning sunlight.

Right before I collapsed on a nearby patch of grass, arm held across my eyes. I had to come up with a plan. I wasn't the smartest tool in the shed, but I wasn't an idiot either. I knew the chances of me being able to actually win this Quest were low, and one hour wasn't going to let me change that.

It wasn't like I couldn't fight. Any Class could pick up a weapon and try to use it, but there was a difference between a Warrior using Devastating Strike and a Shopkeeper using Cut-throat Bargaining - not to mention the general stat differences themselves. My Strength was pretty high and Crocea Mors was a good weapon, so I was sure I could kill the Grimm, at least technically. I'd just be worse at it than almost every other person here.

Hell, about the only saving grace was that it was more of a team effort, and they weren't going to be testing me on my own.

…

Wait, that was it!

Heroes pretty much always worked in groups – or parties, whatever. All the old tales had said so, especially the early legends. There would always be a warrior, rogue, wizard and healer of some kind – so why couldn't I do the same thing?

If I make it seem like I'm the tank, then all I'll need to do is hide behind my shield while the others do the damage. My Constitution is pretty good, so I should be able to take a few hits. It made sense. I may have been a Blacksmith, but that didn't mean I had a magically different set of Stats from everyone else. Strength was still Strength, it did the same thing – and so my decent Constitution score would still let me tank at the level of a Hero.

I'd just be pants at fighting back, thanks to my crappy Dexterity.

Grass fell from me as I sat up, gauntleted hands falling into my lap. One hour, that was all we had, which meant I had to be pretty damn fast if I wanted to form a party. I needed to find some people to introduce myself to, and then convince them it would be a good idea to stick close in the Quest.

I glanced around the courtyard, trying to see what others had come outside as I had. It was too crowded and loud inside, and I needed to make a good impression. A few people caught my eyes, some already deep in conversations with others. Some might have already had friends before they arrived here, it wasn't too much to imagine that a few even planned to team up. I saw one such example, of a loud and boisterous ginger-haired Barbarian, dragging a silent-looking Monk aside. She chattered into his ear the entire time, and he bore it with the silent patience of a man used to it. It must have been nice having friends you could rely on like that.

That made me think of Ruby, and I tried to see if I could spot her. She must have still been stuck inside, however. Wasn't like I could have missed her bright red clothing against the green gardens.

Some dark and shadowed figures by a low wall caught my attention, mainly because they sat apart from the others - much like myself. Their armour was mostly leather, while some wore hoods and cloaks. A pair of golden eyes caught me staring, set within a pretty face with long, raven hair. I could just make out the feline ears poking out the top, a faunus... there hadn't been many of those back home. I paused, wondering if I should go and talk to her. She was alone after all, that had to be a good sign.

The word `Assassin` floated above her head, along with a name. I swallowed and looked away, breaking eye contact first. I'd never been good with girls, and the look she gave me didn't inspire confidence. When I glanced back she had already looked away, engrossed in reading some kind of small tome. It felt like I'd missed out on the chance. Like I'd failed some kind of test.

Arghh… there was no time for melodramatics or hesitation. I had to approach someone.

"Hey there," I waved and walked up to a nearby group. Four guys, each in different forms of armour. A quick glance told me they were two Warriors, a Duellist and a Geomancer. They didn't look particularly pleased to see me, but they hadn't told me to piss off – so that had to be something. "The name's Jaune Arc, I was wondering if you might be interested in sticking together for the Quest?"

"Bugger off," the tallest man growled, shoving me in the chest and actually sending me staggering a few paces. Holy… that was a lot of strength. "We don't need no stinking Knight round here. Not when there's a Warrior on the case." He slammed a hand against his breastplate, which had an ornate golden eagle emblazoned on it.

"Ah, right," I tried to laugh but it came out weak. "I guess you've already got the melee sorted, never mind." Maybe that had been my mistake, I considered as I beat a quick retreat. The groups that were already together clearly had warriors of their own. Was there an ideal set-up? I wasn't sure. There wasn't a limit, I mean any ten people could decide to hang around together if they wanted to. But I suppose there would be a limit in terms of how you didn't want everyone to be one Class.

I'd be best off if I could find a Healer or Mage of some kind. That way they could benefit from my armour and shield, while they hide behind me to cast. That would be an easier option too, since there was no way they would turn around and say they could fight in melee on their own. There were a few people in robes around, but one caught my eye almost instantly.

Snow-coloured hair, pale blue robes that bordered on white, she stood like a doll, talking with another woman. The other woman wore armour too, which looked to be gold. That seemed like a poor choice, the material wasn't exactly good for crafting armour out of. Not if it was meant for anything more than decoration anyway. But the Mage herself, gods… beautiful didn't even begin to describe her. She looked like she was carved from marble, skin pale and unblemished. Even the way she carried herself seemed to be with perfect poise, almost like a statue based on the perfect ideal of what a woman should look like.

She's a mage, my mind taunted, go and talk to her – ask her to work together. It wasn't like I was asking her on a date… didn't have to worry about being rejected. This was just a business arrangement; she would listen – if only because it would make her life easier. That didn't stop me swallowing down my nerves.

But I didn't have time to look for someone more approachable. And with a deep breath, I marched forwards.

"I was thinking we could work together," the beautiful girl said. Hey look, she was already thinking on the same track as me. Maybe this wouldn't be all that hard after all. Act like a Knight would, act exactly like a Knight would. A Knight was confident, a Knight was decisive – brave and chivalrous.

"Hello fair maiden," I put on my best smile and leaned with one arm against the wall beside her, "I couldn't help but hear you talking about the upcoming Quest and working together. Would you like me to be your knight in shining armour?"

"Wh- par- excu-?" She didn't know what to say, pretty, blue eyes wide. It was working, and more than that, she actually seemed flustered. Was she… interested in more than just teamwork? It seemed too good to be true.

"Play your cards right and maybe this partnership can go even further. I'd slay more than my fair share of dragons to earn your favour."

"Do you…" she paused to take a breath, clearly overwhelmed by her emotions. "Do you know who I am?"

My eyes flicked above her head, so her name was Weiss – it seemed to suit her. "You're the girl who's cast a spell on me. Fitting, I suppose." There were little Jaune's cheering in my head at that line, which I actually thought quite clever. I just hoped I could keep it going, since it already felt like I was getting cold feet.

Hang on a minute…

"I wasn't before, but now I am," the beautiful girl whispered as she poked my chest and walked away. I tried to follow, but for the chunks of ice creeping up my shins. Ah… was a that a no, then?

"You look like you could use a hand," the woman I'd otherwise ignored spoke from behind me. I tried to turn around to look, only to be halted midway by the ice. It wasn't creeping any higher, but it still hurt. "Oh, sorry," the feminine voice apologised as the figure stepped before me.

"Hey…" Yep, that's right – laugh at my misery. Here stands Jaune No-Friends.

"Allow me," the woman stamped down on the ice, shattering it with two solid kicks. I couldn't help but gasp and shake my feet upon gaining freedom. More to work some blood back into the frozen and numb limbs than anything else. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I coughed, "thanks – uh…?"

"Pyrrha Nikos," she grasped my hand and gave it a good shake. What I'd assumed was golden armour actually appeared to be a mix of copper and bronze, slightly better – but still oddly worse than more common materials. It was quite light though, only really covering her breast, flanks and shins – though there was a flowing red tabard that came down from it. It matched her long, crimson hair, tired into an ornate ponytail. All in all, she looked like more of an aggressive fighter than me – or what I was meant to be.

Green eyes blinked at me as she cocked her head and smiled, the expression kinder than the Mage's at least. "Jaune Arc," I quickly replied, "resident Knight… or snowman, I suppose." She giggled, and that at least made me feel a little better.

"Not to worry Jaune. I won't tell anyone about that." She promised. Thank the heavens for small mercies… I just wished the other girl could have had a personality closer to this – to Pyrrha. I realised she hadn't actually introduced her Class to me, was that something only I did? The words above told me she was a… - whoah.

"Champion?" That… sounded a damn sight more impressive than Knight or Warrior, I had to admit. She fidgeted a little at the attention, smile being replaced by something less certain. But I had to know. "What's a Champion?"

"Huh?" She blinked, mouth open for a second before shaking her head. "You don't know?"

Oh crap! More stuff I should have been expected to know… "I was raised among a Blacksmith family, one of my distant relatives was a Knight, so the Class was passed down the family. But I don't actually know much about being a Hero." And thank you Ruby for that oh so convenient excuse.

"You were raised among NPC's?"

A grimace worked its way across my face. How I hated that name… the `Needs Protection Caste` – the far less flattering name for what was actually the Labour Caste, but one that just about everybody on Remnant used. The lowest level of the social hierarchy, the Caste incapable of protecting themselves – who needed Soldiers and Heroes to look after them. Who were only good for providing services for those people, and for paying taxes to the Noble Caste.

I was an NPC as well. I needed all the protection I could get.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I swear…" it looked like she'd noticed my expression, for she quickly reached out with one hand, fingers hovering a few inches from my shoulder in fear. "I hold no ill-will against NP- against the Labour Caste, it is both an honour and duty to protect them."

"No, no, it's fine. Forget about it." I waved it off, what else was there to do? "So yeah, I don't know everything I should do. What's a Champion?"

"Nothing more than a Warrior," Pyrrha said. "A few tiny differences but nothing worth worrying about. Just think of me as your everyday Warrior Class."

Warrior, huh? That seemed odd… sure my own class, well Knights, were considered offshoots of the Warrior Class, but there were still key differences. All Classes were different. But if she didn't want to talk about it then who was I to push? Not like I was about to alienate the one person here who would talk to me.

"Alright, sure." She seemed relieved. "So you're not mad about me chasing that Mage away? A melee fighter and a magic-user tend to make good teams."

"I didn't really wish to team up her with anyway, so no, I'm not upset. I hadn't originally planned to team up with anyone before the Quest. I thought I'd let the chips fall where they may."

She planned to do it all alone? Wow, that was pretty confident. Either that or she had the skills to back it up, and who was I to judge? It wasn't like I could see her level or stats or anything, nobody could.

Come to think of it… how did my current abilities compare to the people here? In truth I was actually quite proud of myself. I was Level twelve, which put me far above most of the other children in our village. Dad was one of the most well-known Blacksmiths around at level 24, few people ever made it that high. Because of the extra work he got, it gave me a lot of chances to help in the forge. The Experience had flowed from there, giving me a good three to four Levels above some of the people I knew.

To be honest, most of them had accused me of lying. But how did I compare to someone like Pyrrha, a person confident that she could do this alone?

"What Level are you anyway? I'm Level twelve." I'd said something wrong. I knew it the moment it left my lips, but even more so when her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She flushed briefly, glanced aside and coughed. "Did I… say something wrong?"

"I suppose you didn't know so there's no harm. Your Level is considered quite personal information. It's not something you would – or should – normally give to a person. Not unless you trust them implicitly." She sounded awkward, like she was uncertain of something herself. To be fair it wasn't just that I didn't know revealing levels was well, rude… among the Labour Caste it absolutely wasn't. You could give your Level to the person across the street as easily as you could exchange greetings. She must have seen my confusion. "Consider it like this. A person's Level determines their strength in many regards, so giving it away is basically letting another person know if they can easily defeat you. Even if you're a higher Level, it then comes across as you trying to intimidate them."

"I see…" Maybe it was a Hero thing then, since it wasn't like any normal people would go around fighting one another. "Thanks for letting me know. You don't have to tell me your Level then," I shrugged, "Forget I asked."

She opened her mouth for a second, then paused. Her brows drew together before Pyrrha let out a quick sigh. "Fair is fair, and I suppose there's no harm in it. I'm Level Twenty-one."

I wished I'd never asked. Twenty-one? Twenty-One!? That was only a little lower than my father and she had to be half his age – probably less! It was a number I'd never even considered reaching – a pinnacle I had long thought impossible. My breath caught in my throat, even as a deep feeling of dread settled down below. How was I supposed to compete against people like that?

"Don't worry though," she'd seen my terror – who could have missed it? "I hear the average for Beacon is actually sixteen or seventeen."

That was still four or five levels higher than me. Though not the devastating nine of Pyrrha. If my earlier thoughts hadn't already, then this cemented it. I had to find somebody to help me in the upcoming Quest. Or failure was going to be the least of my concerns – I'd be killed!

"Really, don't worry about it," oh, she was still talking? If so then I'd missed a lot of what she'd said, lost in my own nauseating thoughts. "Levels don't make the Hero and you'll catch up soon enough. If you've gotten this far then you can go the whole way. Even getting to Level twelve in an NPC village, that's an achievement in itself, right?" She'd fallen back into saying NPC, though I couldn't bring myself to correct her. No doubt she thought I'd done training to get the levels, or fought wild Grimm in the wilderness. After all, how else could a Knight generate Exp? It wasn't like they could spend their time in a forge smithing things, was it? Was it!?

"Su-Sure," I coughed. No, wheezed. "I'll just… if you'll excuse me… I need to find some people to group up with."

"Well actually, how about you and I-?"

"I'll see you later Pyrrha," I hope. If I made it into Beacon. Hell, if I even made it out of this alive. Twenty-one… that was insane, she was insane - I was insane. Was everybody here that strong? Were the Grimm that strong?

The group of robed figures striding from the Academy, led by the stern woman from earlier, told me that I'd soon find out. "All prospective students," she called – and now I could see the words over her head more clearly. Her name was Glynda, though the Headmaster had referred to her as Goodwitch. The words below read clearly, Warlock. "If you will step forward we will begin the ritual to transfer you to the outskirts of the ruined village."

Time up… and I hadn't managed to find a single person to agree to go with me. I could back out… if I told them I had second thoughts then they'd no doubt let me go. I could say I wanted to visit my family before joining the military – then dump the amulet in a ditch somewhere. Back to being Jaune the Blacksmith, learning the family trade.

My hands clenched into fists. I refuse. That was not – could not – be my fate. I wanted to prove that I could be more than that, more than what my god damned Class told me I had to be. The leather handle of Crocea Mors was warm. A part of me liked to imagine she hummed with anticipation… but it was probably the sweat on my palms making it feel so.

A great, purple pool of distorted light erupted into the air between the chanting figures. It coalesced slowly, like some thick, syrupy pudding slowly spreading out across a table. Before with a snapping sound it reached the edges of the circle, where it seemed to become tethered to robed figures. New light flickered in the middle, greens, greys and browns coming into focus as the hazy figure of some squat and ruined settlement came into view.

"If you desire to flee then return to the portal at any time," the woman shouted – voice raised over the frantic whispers of the assembled teens. "You will be on your own out there. Pay attention to your reserves, be careful, and above all, fight as the Heroes you claim to be!"

The crowd cheered. I didn't cheer along with them. But I did move, more because of the weight of bodies that pushed behind me, taking me with them as they filed into the mysterious portal. I gave in and walked with them, closing my eyes as we approached.

It was like being pushed into an ice-cold shower. Even as we touched and travelled through it, there was nothing to actually touch or feel in a tangible sense. Just a sudden rush of wind that threatened to knock me down. As my eyes opened, I realised it was the weather on the other side, no doubt causing problems where it interacted with the still breeze of Beacon. And then I was through, proper… pushed a distance away from the portal and towards the ruin itself.

More streamed behind, but some had already gone on ahead. The brave, the eager – or maybe just the competent. I was neither of those things. And as I drew Crocea Mors, almost stumbling at the unfamiliar weight, I realised that I still had no idea what made a Hero.

Maybe the answer lay within this place.

Okay, so as we can see, some things are different – others, the same. This will be a recurring theme for the story in a sense. Don't expect the exact same rules or situations to apply from canon Remnant to this one. Yes Weiss and Pyrrha still meet, but this time there is no overnight initiation and Jaune meets no one else as of yet.

The numbers are different too, as is the task and the attitude towards it. And that makes sense, because the world itself is different. Different world, different rules. The plot will also be different, so expect a new adventure in a sense – even if we'll still undoubtedly see our usual favourite characters.

You can no doubt see where my worry about the Log issue came from. Jaune is an NPC trying to become a Hero, but the point I tried to make clear is that it isn't the same thing. NPC is a different acronym; it doesn't refer to playable characters or AI. It's just a term for the social hierarchy section Jaune is within.