A/N Thanks for the feedback! I realize it's been a while since my last update, but I've had a lot going on.

Dinner became an afterthought. Jaune bolted back to his dorm as soon as class had finished, locking the door behind him. He'd never been much of a test taker, but he needed to remedy that if he wanted to finish the quest.

He opened a textbook— Fundamentals of Weapon Design— and began to read.

They'd been studying the function and purpose of weapons in the past week. He assumed he'd be tested on the subject. Sadly, however, his notes on the topic were sparse. His notes on almost every topic were sparse, honestly. His greatest struggles in class didn't involve convoluted questions or time limits— he was far more worried about staying awake.

Which left him with few options. Review the textbook, he supposed? He began flipping through the pages.

The accrued +4 to intelligence helped more than he'd expected. When he read, retaining information seemed simpler. After a ten-minute reading on a segment on the efficacy of crossguards, he managed to absorb most of it.

The problem? Increased stats didn't translate to interesting reading. Sure, finishing the segment was easier when he understood the majority of what he read, but the task was still arduous. If Jaune knew something about himself, it was that he wasn't studious by nature.

Twenty minutes into reading, and his eyelids began to droop.

No! Think about death. Imminent death. Painful, terrible death.

Groaning, he pried his eyes back open and resumed reading.

One hour… two… three…

At some point, the sun had dimmed and slid down to the horizon.

Against every instinct of his body, though, he kept… forging… on…

His brain felt as though it'd been turned to mush. Words stopped making sense. He'd managed to absorb a lot— or so he thought— but most of the past half hour consisted of drifting into half-sleep before snapping awake.

[Affliction: Fatigue]

He couldn't continue like this. There must be a way to remove that affliction.

Could he forfeit the quest?

Imagine that— surviving the hardest fight of his life, but defeated by schoolwork. Gritting his teeth, he hunkered down. There was no telling how many more opportunities he'd be presented with in the time frame remaining. He'd never forgive himself if this was the corner he cut which prevented him from reaching Level 10.

Moonlight slanted through the window, spilling like luminous silk over his desk. His pen glistened in the light, the tip a sharp glow. He frowned, a thought springing to mind.

Then, he picked it up and stabbed himself in his non-dominant hand.

He hissed. A stab of pain traveled up his hand. It throbbed and burned, and suddenly he was awake. The drowsiness was gone, replaced by waves of pain. Wincing, he flexed his hand, the wound like hot coals buried in the center of his palm.

His Aura protected him, but it still stung.

Thankfully, however, adrenaline replaced drowsiness. Bolstered by that stint of clarity, he forged on.

Pages turned. The dark violet of the sky shifted to brighter hues. Words flowed into his mind, and stab wounds numbered more and more on the backs of his palms.

By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, he was utterly drained.

There was still the test to go, he reminded himself somberly.

Limping with fatigue, he stumbled over to the hallway and thrust open the door. Shower. He needed a cold one, just enough to keep him alert for another hour or so.

It was early in the morning. The birds had scarcely risen from their nests, and only the most dedicated of students were awake at this hour. Yawning, Jaune walked over to the boys' communal showers located in the middle of the hall.

As he walked in, a shock of red hair strolled out.

Jaron Nikos glanced at him, a towel curled around his head.

Jaune didn't have much to do with him. He was one of the highest ranked in their class, an absolute talent with the spear. They'd only spoken on the first few days of school, back when he didn't know how weak Jaune was.

Now, he treated Jaune like the rest.

"Hey," the redhead addressed, appraising him. "Nice fight yesterday."

Starting, Jaune gave him a double-take. How unusually friendly. "Er… thanks?"

The other boy nodded once before walking back down the hallway.

Strange.

Whatever the case, Jaune entered the showers and made sure to douse himself thoroughly with bone-chillingly cold water. When he walked out, he was more alert than when he'd first begun to study.

Test time.

=II=

The exam was conducted on specially-made scrolls designed for testing purposes only. Identifying weapon parts, strategy, use cases… the list continued.

A question about the historical period of the crossbow's height in popularity? He scrunched his brows, and a few dates popped into mind. A few about identifying possible indicators of shift-forms in multi-from weapons, then one about optimal battle strategy…

Was it just him, or did this test seem easier? The increase in intelligence helped, sure, but it couldn't account for the whole difference. Probably a bit of both. Questions ranged from simple to difficult and complex, and some left him scratching his head as to whether he answered them correctly.

Every light tick of the clock was like a drum beat to his ears. He shuffled his feet, crossed his legs over one another, began a nervous ticking with his finger. As time passed, he became acutely aware of the rhythmic pumps of his heart, and only more cognizant of his mortality.

How silly was it that his life hinged on an exam?

As time wound down, so, too, did his answers. For the first time he could remember, he finished slightly early. There was a brief pause between the end of his exam and when Mr. Insley called time, just enough for him to amass more anxiety.

A bell marked the end of the exam.

Jaune heaved a sigh, leaning back, as his test scroll hummed briefly, evaluating his results.

A green marker, followed by a percentage. 100%. It was the first time he'd aced a test that he could remember.

[Quest Complete: Ace The Exam]

Reward: 850 EXP

[Level Up!]

Name: Jaune Arc

Level: 7

EXP: 310/700

CON: 14 + 2 = 16 (+)

STR: 14 + 2 = 16 (+)

DEX: 12 + 2 = 14 (+)

AGI: 12 + 2 = 14 (+)

INT: 12 + 2 = 14 (+)

WIS: 12 + 2 = 14 (+)

Lifespan Remaining: 4 days

Stat Points: 2 Unspent

He heaved a relieved sigh. The warm sensation of a level-up flowed through his body, and the noose of the Reaper loosened around his neck.

It wasn't so much a triumph as a brief respite. Three levels to go. Could he maintain the pace of a level a day? He thought so, but then again, he hadn't a clue how quests worked.

Class continued as usual, though he didn't spar that day. He kept waiting for some event that would prompt a quest, but no such thing happened. They meandered through a lecture on introductory Grimm with little fanfare.

Speaking of Grimm…

He could leave leveling to the introduction of new Quests, but he hadn't gotten one today. Whatever governed Quest-creation didn't see fit to throw him a lifesaver, apparently. He could try to create some conditions for a Quest, but a part of him was more curious about other methods of EXP gain.

After all, Quests had all but dragged him around by the nose the past two days. True, they were immensely helpful, but he didn't know if he liked the idea of being beholden to them for EXP.

So after class ended, he headed in the opposite direction of his normal afternoon haunts.

Pharos took elements of Beacon's architectural style, though flattened against the ground. There were few high-rise buildings, and facilities were instead spread over a larger land mass. This lead to a labyrinthine series of sectors in the school, each leading to visually similar areas. Jaune still frequently got lost trying to find his way beyond the dorm-class route.

"Er…"

He'd been trying to find his way to the forest, maybe try a few Grimm on. With his current expertise— plus the unspent attribute points he resolved to use later— he was fairly certain he could at least escape alive. After all, Boarbatusks, the most dangerous of the Grimm present, were rare. Most of the time, the creatures that appeared were weaker variants of Beowolves. Should be manageable, in theory…

The issue was getting to the forest.

Jaune scratched his head, turning in a circle. He'd gone somewhere. The buildings here were more sparse, for sure. He was pretty sure he was headed in the general direction of the forest. Maybe he'd try continuing down the gradient? The fewer buildings the better, right?

A few minutes of confused walking later, he reached the school's edge. A dark treeline lay beyond, the cool air whispering a trailing, mournful melody through its branches.

This should be the Verdant Forest. Weird— it didn't look too vibrant to him. If anything, the trees looked imposing and dark, with muted, black-green colors.

He gulped.

Confronting real Grimm had seemed a good idea, but not, standing at the threshold and staring into that foreboding treeline, he wasn't so sure.

Theoretically, students weren't allowed to enter the forest solo. The school mandated groups of three students at minimum enter but enforced the rule with a lax eye. After all, some of the more exceptional students preferred hunting alone, and teammates would only drag them down.

Jaune wasn't one of them.

Before he could lose his nerve, Jaune forced himself to walk forward. One, two, one… a step at a time, he told himself. Soon, he was immersed in trees, the sun a mere afterthought through the concealing shade of the branches.

It was quiet. Almost too quiet.

Something shuffled behind him. His foot caught on something hard—

"Eek!" he shrieked, fumbling Crocea Mors to a grip and jumping around.

Rather than the imposing claw of a Beowolf, however, he found a twig stuck to his shoe.

Releasing his breath, he kicked it away.

Something about this had him on edge. Or maybe it was his natural tendency to be a scaredy-cat?

As he settled his still-hammering heart and resolved to continue, something shifted in the bushes before him.

He braced himself as something massive emerged from the undergrowth.

He clenched his teeth, his knuckles turning white as his grip on Crocea Mors tightened. This was no twig.

An adolescent Beowolf stood before him, its cruel eyes regarding him. A body like a thick skeleton fleshed with the essence of shadow, it cut an imposing figure against the foliage. A low snarl escaped its lips.

For a moment, they stared at each other, neither willing to make the first move.

The, the Beowolf struck first.

Jaune almost couldn't react, but his body did for him.

Basic Swordsmanship kicked in. With a reinforced parry, he met the creature's swipe. The impact wasn't the devastating blow he'd expected— a serious weight, sure, but not an unbearable one. Level-ups brought serious advantages, and the change in his physique in even just the last level was marked.

The force transferred across his legs and into the ground, driving furrows in the dirt. As the swing neared its end, he wrenched his wrist, throwing the limb off of Crocea Mors' hilt.

Gasping, he shifted back, staring at his hand in wonder.

Sword composition, swordsmanship understanding, observation… all of his experience condensed in his mind. Suddenly, that hulking beast didn't look so intimidating— he knew he could counter.

The Grimm had been shafted to the side by his parry. Now, as it circled around for another attack, he was ready to intercept it.

Beowolves weren't very intelligent, apparently.

The second attack followed in similar fashion to the first. Throwing up a block, Jaune managed to stop the blow. This time, it pounced following its first attack. He sidestepped the hasty attack, and his sword drew a serrated arc across the Beowolf's body.

[Skill Level Up! Basic Swordsmanship]

Represents the user's ability to wield swords in combat.

Level 2

Every level up came with a jolt to his system. This one was no exception. Even just by slashing twice experimentally, Jaune could feel the difference in fluidity and power. His range of attacks seemed to expand as well— as the Beowolf returned to its assault, a few other options surfaced In his mind.

His mind whirred. The Beowolf was being horribly predictable— and as terrible a student as Jaune was, he at least understood that such behavior practically begged for a counter. He had just the thing.

As the Beowolf approached, he reviewed the move in his head. A moment later, bone and fur met harsh steel.

Rather than avoiding the blow, Jaune stepped in and under the assault before following with a hard thrust. Crocea Mors found purchase in flesh and the Beowolf roared, bucking. Pain flared down Jaune's own leg and he stepped back, wincing and inspecting the wound. His Aura had taken the brunt of the damage, but it hurt like hell— his sidestep hadn't been clean. Something had clipped him when he struck— a claw, maybe?

He winced. So Level 2 of Basic Swordsmanship had limits. Duly noted. At least he'd hurt the Beowolf more than it'd hurt him.

The beast now writhed on the ground with low growls, its body like some spastic snake. His thrust had torn a good chunk from its chest, making a mess of its musculature. Panting, he stepped in and finished the job with a clean slash.

This time, there was no satisfaction, only grim anticipation.

[Enemy slain: Beowolf ]

Reward: 300 EXP

So his suspicion was correct— killing Grimm did yield experience. Provided he could find a steady stream of Grimm to kill without getting killed himself, maybe this would help alleviate his dependency on quests.

He hadn't really had time to think about it before, what with the frenetic pace of do-or-die quests, but his life essentially hinged on completing these tasks. That didn't sit well with him— he was essentially compelled to complete them. To be honest, he'd never been the most independent person, but even he could recognize that being lead around the nose indefinitely by a system he didn't understand was pretty crappy.

In any case, that 300 EXP had put him within arm's reach of a level.

His eyes scanned the forest around him. Just one more Grimm— preferably a weaker one, like a runt boarbatusk?

As though on cue, a pair of red eyes flared from the darkness.

The ground shook. Heavy paws drew scuffs in the ground with each step. Jaune gulped and stepped back as a frame much burlier than the Beowolf's emerged. Tons of sheer muscle beneath a sheen of fine fur and spiked bone.

Ursa.

A Beowolf was one thing, but Jaune really wasn't sure if he was ready to tangle with that behemoth of a Grimm. Ursa were very rare in this forest. The last time he'd heard of a sighting, it'd been from a group of upperclassmen out raiding. They didn't escape unscathed.

Worse still, the thing seemed agitated. Its body trembled as it beheld him, its mouth dipping into a row of clenched teeth.

Jaune debated fighting for a moment. How confident was he that he could take it? His body still rushed with adrenaline from his last bout, but he was feeling pretty good. Maybe unduly, but that's how it was.

Then, two more pairs of red emerged. Two Beowolves lumbered into the open, each as large as the one he'd defeated.

He glanced at them, then at the Ursa, then at himself.

And ran.

=II=

"Aiii! Help! HELP!"

There was no shame in screaming like a damsel in distress as the three bloodthirsty Grimm pursued him. He could hear the crunch of twigs under their feet as he zigged and zagged through the trees, trying desperately to shake them. How were they so massive, and yet so agile? It wasn't fair!

The only advantage he had was his small stature. He could weave between and around trees at speeds much faster than they could, though the Ursa just kind of barreled through them. How much farther until he reached the academy? The trees all started to look the same. His stomach dropped.

What was this terrible luck? One Ursa was bad enough— such higher-class Grimm were rare in this forest. But for another two Beowolves to appear? If it weren't ridiculous, he might've suspected foul play.

A sharp pain in his leg broke through his thoughts. He glanced back— how was that Beowolf so close?! Screaming, he thrust out Crocea Mors's shield aspect and caught its body off-balance. WIth a pained roar, it fell back, tumbling into its compatriots in a mass of black limbs.

Jaune took off again.

"Help! HELP!" he cried. His legs were starting to burn, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this pace up.

A few seconds passed in which all that made noise were the frenzy pattering of his feet on soft dirt and the wild thumping of his heartbeat. The air in front of him seemed to obscure as he ran, growing murky and nebulous from the shadows ahead.

That last tactic hadn't bought him much time if the thumps behind him gaining in volume were any indication. Worse still, he wasn't any clearer on where he was heading— or how much more rope he had left.

There— ahead, through the row of trees, salvation! He increased his pace to the maximum. His thighs burned underneath him— just a little more!

A shadow cut before him and he skidded to a halt on instinct.

A Beowolf stood between him and freedom. He could see Pharos's gates in the distance behind its thick head beckoning to him. As he turned, trying to find a way out, the Ursa and the second Beowolf brought up the rear. They'd trapped him.

Crud.

Crocea Mors jumped to his hands and he turned, trying to keep them all in his field of vision. They circled in like hungry sharks, shaving off the little room he had to manuever. Soon, he'd be fighting all three.

He couldn't allow that to happen. His best bet was trying to get that front Beowolf out of the way somehow, then leap through fast enough to evade the Ursa and the other Beowolf. There wasn't time to plan anything else. So he ran.

A guttural cry escaped his lips as he jumped at the Beowolf, putting all of his bodyweight behind the slam.

To his surprise, the Grimm seemed to have expected it. Its limbs hunched, loading up, before it jumped up to meet his force with its own.

They collided mid-air. Even through the dampening field of the shield of Crocea Mors, the impact still felt like he'd been hit by a crashing bullhead.

His vision blurred as his body cracked across the ground once, then again. The whole left side of his body flared with pain. Salty liquid filled his mouth, and he spat out his own blood.

"H-help!" he gasped, fighting through his own gore. "Anyone!"

Dimly, in the midst of his hazy vision, he made out the silhouette of a crow circling against the backdrop of the blue sky.

Was this the end? How anticlimactic. Maybe he shouldn't have overestimated his abilities and tried for Grimm hunting. He didn't know. This many high-level Grimm should, in theory, almost never be found together— at least in this area. Just his dumb luck, he supposed.

He grasped Crocea Mors and struggled to a seated position , his aura conglomerating around him and mending the damage.

If he was going to go down, he'd go down fighting.

In his mind, his status appeared.

Name: Jaune Arc

Level: 7

EXP: 310/700

CON: 7/16 (+)

STR: 16 (+)

DEX: 14 (+)

AGI: 14 (+)

INT: 14 (+)

WIS:14 (+)

Lifespan Remaining: 4 days

Stat Points: 2 Unspent

With his remaining two points, he boosted his constitution twice. It now read 9/18— enough for him to take one of these Grimm down with him, he hoped.

Before he could act, a flash of feathers and blackness materialized before him.

A tall man appeared where once lay empty space, a gargantuan sword in hand.

"Imagine— I'm on a trip to meet with Pharos' top brass, and who do I see? A stranded kid surrounded by Grimm," the man drawled, regarding Jaune with striking red eyes.

"Please— help me! I don't know how— they came out of nowhere—"

"Relax, kid. I heard you the first twelve times." The man rolled his eyes.

If the Ursa and the Beowolves had been fazed by this development, they got over it quickly.

One pounced from the left, the other from the right, a pincer of several tons of muscle and rending bone ready to make a meat sandwich out of Jaune's benefactor. He struggled to his feet and hefted his blade, trying to square himself to the attackers.

The man stretched an arm and flipped the sword between his hands as though it weighed as much as a feather.

Two streaks of black. Two pained cries. The man became a phantom, a blur, and Jaune couldn't follow even the afterimages of the massive sword. There was a ripple in the air like the waking yawn of some great beast.

When in the presence of tremendous force, the human mind noticed. A faint sense of unease filled those gaps in thought—like trepidation before a massive earthquake or a foreboding churn of the stomach before a volcanic eruption. It was the herald of the truly powerful, reserved for events of such unfathomable might as to be termed forces of nature. Jaune felt that sensation now.

The Grimm fell, bisected.

He gaped. Who was this, and how the hell did he do that?!

Qrow Branwen

Level: ?

How big was the gap between them that he couldn't even fathom this man's level? That sword… the movements… every action clean, precise, and blindingly fast. Jaune hadn't thought the moniker 'Basic' fit for his swordsmanship— he'd slain a Grimm with it! Only now did he understand. There were levels to this.

"You just going to stand there and gape? No 'thank you'?" The man snorted, sheathing his massive weapon. "Kids these days. Ingrates."

"Thank you!" Jaune blurted. "I can't imagine what would've happened… thank you. Really."

"That's better."

The man— Qrow— uncorked a flask by his side and took a swig. Some high-electrolyte drink for high-performing Huntsmen such as himself, no doubt.

"Let this be a lesson, kiddo. If I find you wandering around forests alone again, I won't bother interfering. If you're going to be an idiot, may as well remove yourself from the gene pool. Name's Qrow Branwen, teacher at Signal Academy. I'm here to meet your headmistress."

=II=

The man saw Jaune off at Pharos's gates. Jaune felt as he'd felt the first few hours after receiving his Gamer system— bewildered, almost in disbelief. It seemed to him almost beyond the realm of comprehension that the human body could produce such ludicrous amounts of force.

What level must he be? Eighty, ninety? Or even higher, if levels went beyond one hundred?

He wandered back to his dorm in a semi-daze. Somewhere along the way, the sun has slipped below the horizon, and the young, evening moon began its sordid trek across the night sky.

Jaune headed for the cafeteria, lost in thought. He hadn't managed to achieve a full level— a disappointment— but at least he was still alive, right? There wasn't much point in meeting a deadline if he was dead before he reached that line. Those Grimm, though… something didn't feel right. There shouldn't have been an Ursa in the first place, not to mention two Beowolves to back it up. Far, far too strong for this area. This was meant to be a proving ground, not a slaughterhouse.

If someone was targeting him, they very nearly succeeded. But who would do such a thing— and why? He hadn't offended anyone that he could think of. Whatever the case, he'd need to be on the lookout.

=II=

Name: Jaune Arc

Level: 7

EXP: 610/700

CON: 9/18

STR: 16

DEX: 14

AGI: 14

INT: 14

WIS: 14

Lifespan Remaining: 3 days

Stat Points: 0

Another day, another grind. His experience points seemed to accumulate linearly, by 100 experience for level. Which meant… 800 + 900 + 90— 1790 experience points until the next level. So… about the equivalent of six-ish Beowolves, or two large Quests.

Thus far, just attending classes yielded new Quests. That one foray into the forest was enough for now. He couldn't afford a recurrence of Grimm ambush; even just thinking about it scared him. Maybe he'd been overconfident. Yesterday's events were a shocking reminder that his faster progression didn't make him invincible. Risk and caution required balance.

As he entered the classroom, he noticed a projected list of names on the wide blackboard at the front of the classroom— the class ranking.

1. Scarlet David… 5. Jaron Nikos… 16. Jaune Arc.

He blinked. 16 out of 30? Not bad. Much better than he'd ever been ranked.

[Quest: Rank Up]

Rank within the top 5 of the class.

Reward: 2000 EXP.

Accept? Y/N

2000 EXP?!

More than enough to achieve Level 10. What did it entail?

Beating his way through the top rankings of the class within 3 days meant he couldn't just sit back and allow Mr. Insley's matchmaking to run its course. No— he had to actively challenge his classmates.

He accepted the Quest, sighing. Now that Grimm hunting was out of the picture, this appeared his last lifeline. His whole life was overcoming ridiculous odds. This was nothing special. If he ever fought his way out of this mire, he vowed to find any way to remove his life sentence; the last few days showed him that he'd rather be ordinary and alive than dead and talented.

Tentative plan: increase lifespan by completing this quest, graduate from Pharos, and begin independent research on what was happening to him. Just two days ago, he'd been dead set on attending Beacon. Now, he felt no such desire. Staying alive superseded all else.

A/N

The reasons behind his receiving the Gamer system and its mechanics will be explored.