With faint memories of his past life, and now in a new Remnant, Jaune Arc decided this time he would be strong enough to protect the people he cared about, but the power balance of this world was skewed heavily towards sorcery, something he was incapable of, but he still had Aura, a sword, and a rusty pocket watch.
-
The site has now migrated to Xenforo 2. If you see any issues with the forum operation, please post them in the feedback thread.
-
Due to issues with external spam filters, QQ is currently unable to send any mail to Microsoft E-mail addresses. This includes any account at live.com, hotmail.com or msn.com. Signing up to the forum with one of these addresses will result in your verification E-mail never arriving. For best results, please use a different E-mail provider for your QQ address.
-
The rules regarding NSFW links have been updated. See here for details.
Of Souls, Swords, and Sorcery
- Thread starter Krak-Quinn
- Start date
- Created at
- Index progress
- Hiatus
- Watchers
- 37
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 1
-
Statistics (1 threadmarks, 5.5k words)
User Total Krak-Quinn 1 Threadmarks Reader mode
1: Old Memories, New Life
Krak-Quinn
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Jul 7, 2024
- Messages
- 249
- Likes received
- 4,501
There was no final moment, not one that he could recall anymore at the least.
The rest of his memories were disorganized bubbles floating away from him as he fell into a dark infinity. He didn't know how he was aware of it, but he knew that once a bubble popped, he would forget that bubble had ever existed.
He tried, desperately, to hold onto his memories. He couldn't forget, he couldn't allow himself that mercy. Something was pulling him, yanking him further down and dragging him away from his memories.
A final struggle, he snatched his memories out of the void, the bubbles didn't pop under his grip, instead they shattered.
And his awareness, his life, ended.
The sun was bright as always, and the clouds, mixes of white and gray clumps, were drifting through the nice clear blue sky today. A light and warm breeze was blowing gently, and birds were happily chirping away in a thick forest of tall trees.
In the middle of a clearing, a ten year old blond boy, dressed in simple worn linens and a leather vest, cleared his mind of all distractions, and he focused as he recalled a fragmented memory.
He took a deep breath in, and raised a small wooden sword. "Ready." He called out.
A sigh was the response from the person across from him, an eighteen year old ashen haired woman in a woolen dress and cotton robes, who raised one of her empty hands and pointed a finger at him. "Ugh, finally."
The boy glowed a faint white, the light enveloped his entire body, the wooden sword in his grip, and the rusty pocket watch around his neck. Then he shot off his spot and ran forward.
Tick.
A blue light shot out of the woman's extended finger, and directly into the boy's head. The intensity of the light dimmed as it pierced the white glow, but its effect was enough to end his consciousness as it swam through his brain.
Tock.
As his opponent fired off a blue light, he suddenly craned his head to the side and the projectile barely grazed his hair. He felt a bit nauseous, but he kept up his charge.
The woman certainly hadn't expected her spell to miss at this close of a range, and so she hadn't had a back up plan in place.
The boy had reached his opponent while she was unprepared, and he swung his sword down hard at his opponent. As the wooden blade was slicing through the air, a few inches away from the woman, she took one step to the side and then held out her hand.
The boy's momentum carried him forth as his sword missed his target, and his neck was caught by a waiting hand, his throat felt like it was being crushed on impact.
"Dead." The woman whispered in his ears as her steel grip squeezed.
Tock.
He completely dodged the blue light, and when he reached his opponent, he swung horizontally at her. To put force behind his attack, he had brought his blade back a bit to have more swinging room, with his sword still at his side, the woman took a step forward with her fist raised back.
Her wrist and arm were exposed as her sleeve was held back by wind resistance as her knuckles dove for his face.
Tock.
Shortly after his charge, he moved his head to the side before the blue light was fired, and the woman readjusted her aim.
Tock.
The blue light barely grazed the skin on his head, but the effects sent him off balance and he stumbled into the ground.
Tock.
His mind ached, the pain nearly made him trip as he shot off from his spot. This was his final chance, he couldn't allow any more screw ups, he needed to focus. His vision was wavering as he narrowly avoided a blue light fired at him, and when he reached his opponent, he stepped forth and swung down.
After missing his first strike and while being dragged by his momentum, he used his extended footing to anchor himself as he violently twisted at his waist and swung horizontally at the woman's side.
After his neck was caught, and he almost blacked out from the pain, the woman opened her mouth. "De-eph!" Her words were interrupted by the wooden blade smashing into her side, the sudden stopping of the sword sent a gust of wind that rippled along the grass.
The boy smiled lightly even while on the verge of fainting, but when the woman released her hold on him, he fell down coughing instead.
"Ah, shit that stings. Lords, Jaune, did you seriously just hit me like that? What if I bruised? I- I can't even with you, viciously attacking a delicate maiden like me, what's wrong with you? Imagine, just imagine leaving a mark on my flawless skin, like why? Just why would you do that?"
Through heaving breaths and suppressed coughs, the boy, Jaune looked up at his sister who was frantically checking if her skin was now blemished. "I-I hit you." His statement was dripping with joy at his accomplishment. "Ioanna, I a-actually managed a hit." Cheer lifted his spirits as he staggered to his feet.
"Yes you did! That's why I'm pissed off, if anyone hears about this then my life is over, over!" Ioanna, his sister, practically ripped her dress off to view her skin, and she sighed in relief when she only saw sparkling white flesh.
"I did it, I finally did it." Fresh tears of absolute and overwhelming happiness flooded forth from his eyes. He had actually landed a hit, this was definite proof that he was improving, that he was getting stronger.
"Uh, Jaune?" Ioanna, after calming down from her light panic, noticed the extreme oddness of her brother's reaction. "You okay, lil bro?"
"Y-yeah, just relieved that my efforts and training are finally paying off." He wiped away his tears.
"I mean sure, you've been practicing for two years now, eventually you would get in a lucky strike or two." She naturally dismissed his accomplishment as pure luck. "I mean, c'mon I'm only allowed to use basic spells, sooner or later you would spot a pattern I'm not aware of and exploit it."
Jaune's joy was tampered a little, his sister didn't believe it was possible for him to land an actual hit on her. "You didn't even know the basics until two years ago." He grumbled.
"Uh yeah, but I mostly use intermediate spells now, and I can almost use advanced ones too, the teachers are calling me a prodigy, a miracle in the flesh." She smiled smugly and stood tall as she puffed up her chest.
"Being born lucky doesn't change your nature. You're still rotten to your core." He immediately knew that he had taken it a bit too far as he was done talking.
"Oh yeah?" Ioanna sneered. "Uh, like." And pointed at his chest. "Bang." A large purple beam shot out her finger and sent him flying back.
Jaune crashed into a large tree, and he finally succumbed to the pain accumulating in his body and fainted.
A shattered moon loomed high above everything, giant gears of dull silver and faded gold hung in the sky, rusted and cracked, the moon and the gears were on the verge of falling down, but for now they remained in place. A cold biting chill rolled along with a dark fog that concealed the ground.
On the broken remains of a stone clock tower, barely above the sea of darkness, a young boy stood on top of gray cracked stone. And he stared at the stained glass shards floating through the air. Only a handful remained from the first time he saw them, the rest had either faded into dust, floated away, or were swallowed by the darkness.
On the small surface of the shards, scenes were playing out as if on a screen. However, they were at their limits, most scenes were cutting and skipping around, as they lost focus and details with each replay.
Jaune never dreamt, since the first time he fell asleep he had came here instead. As a newborn up to his last year as a toddler, the shards were full panels and entirely immersive, and around the time he turned five, everything suddenly clicked. He realized what he was looking at, just as they started breaking.
What he used to think were dreams, were actually memories, his memories of a previous life. However, until he turned eight, he couldn't comprehend what that actually meant. And by the time he was ready and willing to incorporate and study his memories so he wouldn't fail again, the majority of them were already gone.
Details had faded away, leaving him with only vague recollections.
Jaune knew the vague outline of his previous life, but even that was spotty and not particularly helpful. In fact, remembering the existence of a hazy enemy as an immortal being had sapped his spirits.
The only thing he had truly been able to learn from his memories, apart from basic knowledge and common sense, was his skill at using Aura and how to fight with a sword and shield.
Unfortunately, this world was different from the one in his memories. In the other world, magic was simply a fairytale to most people, and only a literal handful was able to wield it. But in this world, that couldn't be farther from the truth, nearly half of everyone here was able to use some form of magic.
Soul Circuits, the simple explanation was that it was a spiritual system that ran along a person's body and connected them to their soul. They were used to gather and transform soul energy into fuel for magic spells. A person's capability to use magic was set at birth, details like quality and quantity couldn't be changed.
People couldn't alter how much energy was produced, or how fast it was made, or how much they could hold at once, the only thing that could be trained was how much energy was used effectively in a spell.
As immutable as they were after forming, it was entirely possible to manufacture better ones for the next generation. Simply put, a child's Soul Circuits was decided based on its parents, so it would stand to reason that two strong sets would produce an even stronger set.
And two weaker sets would produce an even weaker set.
It wasn't a solid math, certain circumstances could vary the outcome, sometimes drastically. And abnormal mutations were either called blessings or curses.
Jaune's parents didn't particularly care to name it, as they had never cared much in the first place about magic in general, so when he was born without a single Soul Circuit, they weren't bothered. They hadn't even considered telling him about magic because they thought it would be pointless information for him.
He could still vividly remember when he had discovered his lack of ability. He couldn't see his new memories from this life amongst the shards, but while he was here, he could still visualize them quite clearly.
…
…
…
His youngest sister had been born and he had known for weeks what her name would be, even though his parents named her on a whim shortly after her birth.
His memories, his knowledge, had previously been discarded because it had made living a normal life difficult and they seemed wrong about some things, but now he was convinced that there was something else at play.
And he could feel it buried in his brain, that he knew everything would someday crumble and burn to ashes. Dread filled his eight year old body and his mind as he was made aware of the end of the world, but he wasn't overwhelmed as he found a single conviction within his soul, to save and protect, to not fail this time.
Even though he wanted to protect people, he was aware that he was weak and that he needed to get stronger, however his mother didn't allow him to do any sort of training that his young body wasn't ready for. He tried telling his parents that the world was going to fall to ruin and he needed to be strong, but they dismissed him as simply fretting over a nightmare.
So he mostly just made sure to stay healthy and heavily active in his everyday life. Then he grasped the memories of using his Aura.
"I- I don't think I get it, can you repeat that, Dad?" Standing before his father who was currently sitting on a porch chair, Jaune didn't believe what his ears had just heard.
"I thought I was clear." A man with blue eyes, Augustus, scratched his thick blond beard. "The quality of our bloodline has been declining for a while now, some of your sisters barely have some, but you don't have a single Soul Circuit. It's just not possible for you to become a strong warrior."
Just barely did the words reach his brain, but he still couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. "B-b-but I have this!" He flared his Aura and a white glow enveloped his form for a bit.
His father sighed. "Son, I understand where you are coming from. I too denied reality when I learned this fact, but trust me, out there in a real fight, power is all that matters. I could barely cast a few spells, and in the end I never found the glory I was searching for, instead, I found something better, an angel." He sent a wistful gaze to the woman walking over to them.
"I've lost count by now, but as I've said when we first met, please refrain from calling me an angel, I assure you I'm still human." Said a woman with ashen hair and impassive red eyes, this was Jaune's mother, Florence. "Jaune, wash your hands, dinner is almost done."
"M-mom, Dad is saying I can't be a warrior."
"Yes, that's right, you don't have a single Soul Circuit." Her words were blunt and offhanded.
"B-but I have this!" Again he glowed white and by straining his focus he was able to hold it for a bit. "It makes me stronger, tougher, and I can even heal a bit."
"Do you honestly believe that would protect you in a fight?" His mother's tone was uncharacteristically sharp, but the contents of her sentence had baffled her son and he didn't even notice it.
Aura was the manifestation of the soul, Huntsman who trained with it became legends. "Yes! With this—" Jaune stopped talking as his mother was suddenly inches away from him, the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground with pain radiating throughout his body.
He couldn't breathe, the air had been knocked out of him and now he couldn't breathe anymore. Pain pulsed up his nerves in rhythm with his heartbeat. Tears clouded his eyes as he desperately gasped for air, he saw his house off in the distance, and a blurry figure that was walking towards him with a smooth stride.
"Jaune, what you are so confident in is a lesser form of one of the most basic spells. Your version is more expensive and less effective. If you were in a battlefield, you would die. It's simply the truth." His mother knelt down to his side and placed a hand on his stomach. "Now stay still while I heal you. I hope your delusion is cured now."
A green dome of warm light covered his body, and even after the pain was gone, his tears didn't stop. Jaune clutched at the grass around him as he sobbed. The influx of pain, the sense of powerlessness, it rekindled some memories within him. He felt helpless, worthless, as hazy recollections of figures died before his eyes.
He wanted to be strong, but in his old life he was never strong enough to save anyone. Even after he became proficient with Aura and his weapons, his enemies simply didn't care. More information filled in the gap: it didn't matter, in the end, no amount of strength would be able to kill the immortal.
Now, here, in a new world, he was still lacking strength.
…
…
…
Augustus Arc had a set of poor quality Soul Circuits, and Florence Antoinette had a poor quantity of Soul Circuits, but neither of them cared about magic much. His father just wanted some glory, and his mother just wanted to help people, then they met in a small war.
His father could recall that day in vivid detail, and he enjoyed retelling it when asked about it. After a fierce battle that he had barely won, the enemy aimed their artillery at him, the first volley completely broke his weapons and his bones, and then Florence took the field.
His mother had swatted away cannonballs like they were nothing with the back of her hand, and she even caught some before throwing them back with even more force. After the enemy was taken care of, she used a single spell to heal dozens of her wounded allies from near fatal states, but it exhausted her and she fell immobile. His father had carried her to safety, even as he was shot at by reinforcements.
His parents fought back to back for the entire war, and when it ended both of them were given medals for their service, but both of them decided to step back from active war, as they had found love. They vowed to come back if called, but for now, young as they were, they wanted to experience more of life before they died.
Augustus settled down as a lord's knight, and since his fighting prowess wasn't anything great, he was paid cheaply to keep watch over a small village and an overgrown forest. Meanwhile, Florence had used her war experience to compile a report about the some problems she saw and what she would recommend some people do better.
In total they have eight children now, six of their daughters had sets of Soul Circuits that were both of poor quality and quantity. One of them surprisingly had Soul Circuits of good quality and quantity, having inherited only the best parts from each parent. And their only son didn't have a single one.
The lack of Soul Circuits, but having a mage's blood, apparently allowed him a direct connection to his soul.
The soul was the source of magical energy, it was like water, a person's body was the container, and the Soul Circuits were pipes and faucets. If the pipes didn't exist, then the water would stay where it was.
But if a person had the capacity to be a mage, the container would have holes to where the pipes could connect, and if the pipes were missing then the water would simply leak out.
Jaune didn't really understand it at first, but the more he learned about it, the more he at least understood the meaning of what he was being told.
A soul leaking wasn't anything new, most mage families had at least one person whose Soul Circuits were malformed, and behaved unnaturally. Most people with the condition simply learned to redirect the energy flowing from their soul to another Soul Circuit.
And if he didn't have the memories of Aura, then he wouldn't be able to manipulate the energy leaking out of his soul.
Confronted by the knowledge, that even with the strength from his previous life, he was still simply just a weak child, almost broke him. But shortly after that event, Ioanna Arc had been accepted as a mage student at a small academy.
His sister's ego eventually swelled up and she truly believed she was the best out of her siblings, and that she would be better than her parents one day too. Some sort of mage superiority had taken root in her while she studied magic. Her new attitude had isolated herself from her friends and family, but she didn't seem to mind much.
Jaune didn't particularly care, in his previous life he had never been especially close to his sisters, as they were seven girls and he was the only boy among them.
He could always tell when they excluded him to have a girls only chat, and he could never connect with them on a deep level. Whenever he tried to help, one of his older sisters always knew what his other sister needed better than he would ever.
He had felt isolated in his own home sometimes, and when his sister had interacted with him, he mostly ended up feeling ashamed. Whenever they experienced boy problems, he was constantly told to never be like them, and his own behavior constantly corrected to fit their view.
Maybe he was exaggerating, in fact he was almost certain he was, but he hadn't seen many good memories with his sisters amongst the shards.
His sisters often emasculated him and called him cute as they dressed him up in female clothing, and they often told him he would've made a cute girl, that it was too bad that he was a guy. So sometimes he hated having been born differently than his sisters, and he also sometimes hated them for making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.
Or so he gathered from what remained of his memories of them, and now he hated himself a bit for not being able to remember any of the good times. In his new life, he found himself putting up a wall between him and his sisters as a result of only remembering the bad times.
Anyway, when Ioanna isolated herself, she didn't attempt to reflect and change her behavior, no she only became more belligerent as a result. Having strong magic at her fingertips, was similar to having a weapon in her hand, and simply pointing at someone was enough for them to relent to her whims.
The sense of power had definitely gone to her head, and one day she had even pointed at Florence over a trivial matter. Their mom snapped her wrist then punched her in the gut hard enough to make her vomit and pass out.
Jaune had been cleaning nearby in a daze, still not back to full spirits yet, so he saw the whole thing go down, and then he was told to drag his sister to her room. His mother didn't show her emotions much, and was often harshly blunt, but when she punched his sister, he remembered the look on her face from when she had punched him, it was rage.
It was then that he realized his mindset had been similar to Ioanna's, they had both gotten power and thought themselves stronger than they were. It was simple, even with his Aura, it wouldn't do much against magic, he would die. He had thought himself capable of battle before he even knew what battle was in this world.
His other sisters had averted their eyes and hurried away as he dragged his sister down the hall. She had been the oldest and most loved, but now everyone avoided her. Unfortunately, he found himself feeling a sort of connection with her, his emotions had gotten the best of him and he felt bad for her, his fellow outcast.
So after dragging her onto her bed, he wiped her face, hair, and shirt clear of her vomit. And then stayed by her side for a while. When his mom was done cooking, she stopped by and healed her.
Ioanna woke with a gasp, and then she bit back a shout as her fingers twitched and she looked away from their mom.
"Wash your hands before coming down for dinner." That was all Florence said as she started walking away.
"W-wait!" Ioanna shouted as she looked confused. "What the fuck? That's all? Like, I literally just pointed at you, that's all, and then you punch me out cold. Shouldn't we talk about that?"
Their mom tilted her head slightly, and then her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Right." She nodded. "Don't do that." And then she turned around.
Jaune wasn't clear on who that was meant for.
"Y-you can't just brush past this!" His sister was evidently fed-up with something. And in a fit, she raised her hand again.
In the blink of an eye, their mom was beside her daughter and with the swipe of a glowing green hand, she chopped down on Ioanna's extended wrist.
A hand fell on the bed, separated from an arm without a single drop of blood.
His sister screamed as she clutched at her stump of disfigured flesh, she kicked and rolled around on her bed in agony.
"Shh." Florence swiped her hand across her daughter's throat, and left behind twisted flesh. Her daughter silently screamed without a voice until her eyes rolled back and she fainted. "Wash your hands before you come down to eat, Jaune." She turned to her son and spoke as she picked up the separated hand.
"I-I'll stay here and look after her for a bit." He had been more than a bit surprised at his mother's ability, but emotion wise she wasn't that much different than in previous memories, and he could remember fondly what he was sure was her absolute love for her children.
He still had to wonder just what about her life and power in this world had led her to this type of behavior. If it was his previous life, his mother would've simply taken away some jewelry or toys.
"Okay. Inform her that she'll get her voice back in a day, and her hand back when she learns to behave." She turned on her heels and walked away.
It was a while until Ioanna had managed to get her arm back, and the only real change was her cautious attitude towards their mom. And by that time, Jaune had already come up with an idea for his own goals.
His sister had some healing magic, and was learning offensive spells too, so she would make for a good sparring partner. And fighting a weak mage would let him grow accustomed to them.
She had no qualms about using her magic on a child, her own little brother no less, and so for hours she would incapacitate him and then heal him over and over again until she was exhausted.
It remained that way for almost a year, but when Jaune was nine and helping out his family by cleaning up their storage room, he found something odd tucked away. A rusty pocket watch, the dull silver and faded golden materials that it was made out of reminded him of the gears in his dream.
As he held the item, his Aura flowed with purpose up his arm and out the skin of his palm. As a white glow flooded the watch, gears churned and the twisted metal hands twitched. He immediately felt weak and fell to his knees, more than half of his Aura had been swallowed up.
It would take a while until he discovered the rusty watch's true ability. He had learned from his father that it was a mystic artifact passed down the Arc family, a gift to an old ancestor from a strange knight, but no one was able to find out how it was used. So they just kept it as a trophy of sorts, an antique to recall an interesting story.
Jaune investigated around, asking anyone with any sort of knowledge about mystic artifacts, reading any book that described them.
At its most basic, a mystic artifact was simply a special magical armament, the range of effects was vast, but the quality was often terrible. Unless a master mystical artisans created it, then it would likely break or just wouldn't work most of the time.
Items with simple effects and a fixed usage were easy to make though, but the more simple it was the less likely a mage needed it as they could accomplish the same effect for less energy. So it was mostly people with magical energy and little to none magical training that used them.
In common society, they were simply just tools to help out, but for high-class sorcerers they were a sign of incompetence and as something that only a lesser mage would use. The outcome of this view, led to almost none common combat-viable mystic artifacts on the market, as mages wouldn't use them in battle, and normal people wouldn't have any use for them around the house.
In his research he had not found a single claim that would lead him to believe he wouldn't be able to use one. They simply required magical energy, and he had that but he just couldn't use it for any spells. The only real issue he found was the consumption of energy, most only used a bit of processed magical energy, but the difference between processed and raw was vast.
It would take nearly ten times the amount of energy for him to use a simple and cheap mystic artifact, so he couldn't really gauge how much he would need to spend on an ancient and seemingly complex pocket watch.
He didn't give up entirely on using mystic artifacts, but since he couldn't get his hands on any right now, he put that plan aside and just focused on re-learning how to use a sword. He couldn't really use a shield yet, and even with one it wouldn't make a difference if he got hit, so for now he focused on learning to dodge.
One day, when his sister was in a really bad move, she had broken their agreement, and used an intermediate spell that she had learned recently. A volley of icicles shot straight through his chest, with his body now adorned with honeycomb-like holes, his blood gushed out, and he felt his soul dissipate as his body was growing numb.
In his final moments alive, he heard a faint sound.
Tock.
Jaune stumbled back as he found himself standing just as he had been a few seconds ago, and his sister drew back a glowing hand with irritation clearly visible on her face. Without a second thought, he dove to the ground, as violent icicles screeched through the air and punctured through a thick tree.
His heart pounded with hot blood, and his lungs took in desperate gasps of air. His brain felt like it was boiling in his blood and his eyes felt like they were melting. He clutched at his chest, where he had just felt vivid pain. All these sensations at least made it clear that he hadn't imagined his near death.
He examined his rusty pocket watch, and found the smallest twisted hand which had been pointing at ten, was now aimed at one. And in his hands, he felt his Aura being sucked up once more.
This mystic artifact allowed his soul to travel back in time a few seconds. From what he guessed, when the item itself was destroyed, it activated automatically.
Over the next year, he would eventually discover how to control the activation. To use it manually, he needed to allow his Aura to flow through the pocket watch, and when he wanted to activate the effects he needed to reverse the flow in the clock.
As Jaune used its effect, he got more and more familiar with it, and soon he was able to store more than one flow in the clock. Still, that didn't change the activation cost or his amount of Aura.
Each usage required a significant amount of Aura, and when his soul was sent back, what he spent in those seconds weren't replenished.
He did come up with a small countermeasure to ensure he wasn't constantly wasting Aura, he would only reverse the flow after his body was already in motion from an explosive usage of Aura.
But, even as he used the mystic artifact, he knew he wasn't using it at its full power, so far he has only been able to move the smallest twisted hand of the three in total. He hoped to at least move the middle twisted hand within five years.
When he thought about it, he considered himself to be extremely fortunate to have encountered such a powerful item. However, when he gazed at the item, an unfamiliar nostalgia washed over him, and he couldn't help but imagine it was fate that led it to his hands.
Jaune felt his reminiscence end as his mind started to fade away from the dark dreamscape, a sign that he was waking up.
AN: Would you prefer a slave-maid: Blake or Cinder?
The rest of his memories were disorganized bubbles floating away from him as he fell into a dark infinity. He didn't know how he was aware of it, but he knew that once a bubble popped, he would forget that bubble had ever existed.
He tried, desperately, to hold onto his memories. He couldn't forget, he couldn't allow himself that mercy. Something was pulling him, yanking him further down and dragging him away from his memories.
A final struggle, he snatched his memories out of the void, the bubbles didn't pop under his grip, instead they shattered.
And his awareness, his life, ended.
The sun was bright as always, and the clouds, mixes of white and gray clumps, were drifting through the nice clear blue sky today. A light and warm breeze was blowing gently, and birds were happily chirping away in a thick forest of tall trees.
In the middle of a clearing, a ten year old blond boy, dressed in simple worn linens and a leather vest, cleared his mind of all distractions, and he focused as he recalled a fragmented memory.
He took a deep breath in, and raised a small wooden sword. "Ready." He called out.
A sigh was the response from the person across from him, an eighteen year old ashen haired woman in a woolen dress and cotton robes, who raised one of her empty hands and pointed a finger at him. "Ugh, finally."
The boy glowed a faint white, the light enveloped his entire body, the wooden sword in his grip, and the rusty pocket watch around his neck. Then he shot off his spot and ran forward.
Tick.
A blue light shot out of the woman's extended finger, and directly into the boy's head. The intensity of the light dimmed as it pierced the white glow, but its effect was enough to end his consciousness as it swam through his brain.
Tock.
As his opponent fired off a blue light, he suddenly craned his head to the side and the projectile barely grazed his hair. He felt a bit nauseous, but he kept up his charge.
The woman certainly hadn't expected her spell to miss at this close of a range, and so she hadn't had a back up plan in place.
The boy had reached his opponent while she was unprepared, and he swung his sword down hard at his opponent. As the wooden blade was slicing through the air, a few inches away from the woman, she took one step to the side and then held out her hand.
The boy's momentum carried him forth as his sword missed his target, and his neck was caught by a waiting hand, his throat felt like it was being crushed on impact.
"Dead." The woman whispered in his ears as her steel grip squeezed.
Tock.
He completely dodged the blue light, and when he reached his opponent, he swung horizontally at her. To put force behind his attack, he had brought his blade back a bit to have more swinging room, with his sword still at his side, the woman took a step forward with her fist raised back.
Her wrist and arm were exposed as her sleeve was held back by wind resistance as her knuckles dove for his face.
Tock.
Shortly after his charge, he moved his head to the side before the blue light was fired, and the woman readjusted her aim.
Tock.
The blue light barely grazed the skin on his head, but the effects sent him off balance and he stumbled into the ground.
Tock.
His mind ached, the pain nearly made him trip as he shot off from his spot. This was his final chance, he couldn't allow any more screw ups, he needed to focus. His vision was wavering as he narrowly avoided a blue light fired at him, and when he reached his opponent, he stepped forth and swung down.
After missing his first strike and while being dragged by his momentum, he used his extended footing to anchor himself as he violently twisted at his waist and swung horizontally at the woman's side.
After his neck was caught, and he almost blacked out from the pain, the woman opened her mouth. "De-eph!" Her words were interrupted by the wooden blade smashing into her side, the sudden stopping of the sword sent a gust of wind that rippled along the grass.
The boy smiled lightly even while on the verge of fainting, but when the woman released her hold on him, he fell down coughing instead.
"Ah, shit that stings. Lords, Jaune, did you seriously just hit me like that? What if I bruised? I- I can't even with you, viciously attacking a delicate maiden like me, what's wrong with you? Imagine, just imagine leaving a mark on my flawless skin, like why? Just why would you do that?"
Through heaving breaths and suppressed coughs, the boy, Jaune looked up at his sister who was frantically checking if her skin was now blemished. "I-I hit you." His statement was dripping with joy at his accomplishment. "Ioanna, I a-actually managed a hit." Cheer lifted his spirits as he staggered to his feet.
"Yes you did! That's why I'm pissed off, if anyone hears about this then my life is over, over!" Ioanna, his sister, practically ripped her dress off to view her skin, and she sighed in relief when she only saw sparkling white flesh.
"I did it, I finally did it." Fresh tears of absolute and overwhelming happiness flooded forth from his eyes. He had actually landed a hit, this was definite proof that he was improving, that he was getting stronger.
"Uh, Jaune?" Ioanna, after calming down from her light panic, noticed the extreme oddness of her brother's reaction. "You okay, lil bro?"
"Y-yeah, just relieved that my efforts and training are finally paying off." He wiped away his tears.
"I mean sure, you've been practicing for two years now, eventually you would get in a lucky strike or two." She naturally dismissed his accomplishment as pure luck. "I mean, c'mon I'm only allowed to use basic spells, sooner or later you would spot a pattern I'm not aware of and exploit it."
Jaune's joy was tampered a little, his sister didn't believe it was possible for him to land an actual hit on her. "You didn't even know the basics until two years ago." He grumbled.
"Uh yeah, but I mostly use intermediate spells now, and I can almost use advanced ones too, the teachers are calling me a prodigy, a miracle in the flesh." She smiled smugly and stood tall as she puffed up her chest.
"Being born lucky doesn't change your nature. You're still rotten to your core." He immediately knew that he had taken it a bit too far as he was done talking.
"Oh yeah?" Ioanna sneered. "Uh, like." And pointed at his chest. "Bang." A large purple beam shot out her finger and sent him flying back.
Jaune crashed into a large tree, and he finally succumbed to the pain accumulating in his body and fainted.
A shattered moon loomed high above everything, giant gears of dull silver and faded gold hung in the sky, rusted and cracked, the moon and the gears were on the verge of falling down, but for now they remained in place. A cold biting chill rolled along with a dark fog that concealed the ground.
On the broken remains of a stone clock tower, barely above the sea of darkness, a young boy stood on top of gray cracked stone. And he stared at the stained glass shards floating through the air. Only a handful remained from the first time he saw them, the rest had either faded into dust, floated away, or were swallowed by the darkness.
On the small surface of the shards, scenes were playing out as if on a screen. However, they were at their limits, most scenes were cutting and skipping around, as they lost focus and details with each replay.
Jaune never dreamt, since the first time he fell asleep he had came here instead. As a newborn up to his last year as a toddler, the shards were full panels and entirely immersive, and around the time he turned five, everything suddenly clicked. He realized what he was looking at, just as they started breaking.
What he used to think were dreams, were actually memories, his memories of a previous life. However, until he turned eight, he couldn't comprehend what that actually meant. And by the time he was ready and willing to incorporate and study his memories so he wouldn't fail again, the majority of them were already gone.
Details had faded away, leaving him with only vague recollections.
Jaune knew the vague outline of his previous life, but even that was spotty and not particularly helpful. In fact, remembering the existence of a hazy enemy as an immortal being had sapped his spirits.
The only thing he had truly been able to learn from his memories, apart from basic knowledge and common sense, was his skill at using Aura and how to fight with a sword and shield.
Unfortunately, this world was different from the one in his memories. In the other world, magic was simply a fairytale to most people, and only a literal handful was able to wield it. But in this world, that couldn't be farther from the truth, nearly half of everyone here was able to use some form of magic.
Soul Circuits, the simple explanation was that it was a spiritual system that ran along a person's body and connected them to their soul. They were used to gather and transform soul energy into fuel for magic spells. A person's capability to use magic was set at birth, details like quality and quantity couldn't be changed.
People couldn't alter how much energy was produced, or how fast it was made, or how much they could hold at once, the only thing that could be trained was how much energy was used effectively in a spell.
As immutable as they were after forming, it was entirely possible to manufacture better ones for the next generation. Simply put, a child's Soul Circuits was decided based on its parents, so it would stand to reason that two strong sets would produce an even stronger set.
And two weaker sets would produce an even weaker set.
It wasn't a solid math, certain circumstances could vary the outcome, sometimes drastically. And abnormal mutations were either called blessings or curses.
Jaune's parents didn't particularly care to name it, as they had never cared much in the first place about magic in general, so when he was born without a single Soul Circuit, they weren't bothered. They hadn't even considered telling him about magic because they thought it would be pointless information for him.
He could still vividly remember when he had discovered his lack of ability. He couldn't see his new memories from this life amongst the shards, but while he was here, he could still visualize them quite clearly.
…
…
…
His youngest sister had been born and he had known for weeks what her name would be, even though his parents named her on a whim shortly after her birth.
His memories, his knowledge, had previously been discarded because it had made living a normal life difficult and they seemed wrong about some things, but now he was convinced that there was something else at play.
And he could feel it buried in his brain, that he knew everything would someday crumble and burn to ashes. Dread filled his eight year old body and his mind as he was made aware of the end of the world, but he wasn't overwhelmed as he found a single conviction within his soul, to save and protect, to not fail this time.
Even though he wanted to protect people, he was aware that he was weak and that he needed to get stronger, however his mother didn't allow him to do any sort of training that his young body wasn't ready for. He tried telling his parents that the world was going to fall to ruin and he needed to be strong, but they dismissed him as simply fretting over a nightmare.
So he mostly just made sure to stay healthy and heavily active in his everyday life. Then he grasped the memories of using his Aura.
"I- I don't think I get it, can you repeat that, Dad?" Standing before his father who was currently sitting on a porch chair, Jaune didn't believe what his ears had just heard.
"I thought I was clear." A man with blue eyes, Augustus, scratched his thick blond beard. "The quality of our bloodline has been declining for a while now, some of your sisters barely have some, but you don't have a single Soul Circuit. It's just not possible for you to become a strong warrior."
Just barely did the words reach his brain, but he still couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. "B-b-but I have this!" He flared his Aura and a white glow enveloped his form for a bit.
His father sighed. "Son, I understand where you are coming from. I too denied reality when I learned this fact, but trust me, out there in a real fight, power is all that matters. I could barely cast a few spells, and in the end I never found the glory I was searching for, instead, I found something better, an angel." He sent a wistful gaze to the woman walking over to them.
"I've lost count by now, but as I've said when we first met, please refrain from calling me an angel, I assure you I'm still human." Said a woman with ashen hair and impassive red eyes, this was Jaune's mother, Florence. "Jaune, wash your hands, dinner is almost done."
"M-mom, Dad is saying I can't be a warrior."
"Yes, that's right, you don't have a single Soul Circuit." Her words were blunt and offhanded.
"B-but I have this!" Again he glowed white and by straining his focus he was able to hold it for a bit. "It makes me stronger, tougher, and I can even heal a bit."
"Do you honestly believe that would protect you in a fight?" His mother's tone was uncharacteristically sharp, but the contents of her sentence had baffled her son and he didn't even notice it.
Aura was the manifestation of the soul, Huntsman who trained with it became legends. "Yes! With this—" Jaune stopped talking as his mother was suddenly inches away from him, the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground with pain radiating throughout his body.
He couldn't breathe, the air had been knocked out of him and now he couldn't breathe anymore. Pain pulsed up his nerves in rhythm with his heartbeat. Tears clouded his eyes as he desperately gasped for air, he saw his house off in the distance, and a blurry figure that was walking towards him with a smooth stride.
"Jaune, what you are so confident in is a lesser form of one of the most basic spells. Your version is more expensive and less effective. If you were in a battlefield, you would die. It's simply the truth." His mother knelt down to his side and placed a hand on his stomach. "Now stay still while I heal you. I hope your delusion is cured now."
A green dome of warm light covered his body, and even after the pain was gone, his tears didn't stop. Jaune clutched at the grass around him as he sobbed. The influx of pain, the sense of powerlessness, it rekindled some memories within him. He felt helpless, worthless, as hazy recollections of figures died before his eyes.
He wanted to be strong, but in his old life he was never strong enough to save anyone. Even after he became proficient with Aura and his weapons, his enemies simply didn't care. More information filled in the gap: it didn't matter, in the end, no amount of strength would be able to kill the immortal.
Now, here, in a new world, he was still lacking strength.
…
…
…
Augustus Arc had a set of poor quality Soul Circuits, and Florence Antoinette had a poor quantity of Soul Circuits, but neither of them cared about magic much. His father just wanted some glory, and his mother just wanted to help people, then they met in a small war.
His father could recall that day in vivid detail, and he enjoyed retelling it when asked about it. After a fierce battle that he had barely won, the enemy aimed their artillery at him, the first volley completely broke his weapons and his bones, and then Florence took the field.
His mother had swatted away cannonballs like they were nothing with the back of her hand, and she even caught some before throwing them back with even more force. After the enemy was taken care of, she used a single spell to heal dozens of her wounded allies from near fatal states, but it exhausted her and she fell immobile. His father had carried her to safety, even as he was shot at by reinforcements.
His parents fought back to back for the entire war, and when it ended both of them were given medals for their service, but both of them decided to step back from active war, as they had found love. They vowed to come back if called, but for now, young as they were, they wanted to experience more of life before they died.
Augustus settled down as a lord's knight, and since his fighting prowess wasn't anything great, he was paid cheaply to keep watch over a small village and an overgrown forest. Meanwhile, Florence had used her war experience to compile a report about the some problems she saw and what she would recommend some people do better.
In total they have eight children now, six of their daughters had sets of Soul Circuits that were both of poor quality and quantity. One of them surprisingly had Soul Circuits of good quality and quantity, having inherited only the best parts from each parent. And their only son didn't have a single one.
The lack of Soul Circuits, but having a mage's blood, apparently allowed him a direct connection to his soul.
The soul was the source of magical energy, it was like water, a person's body was the container, and the Soul Circuits were pipes and faucets. If the pipes didn't exist, then the water would stay where it was.
But if a person had the capacity to be a mage, the container would have holes to where the pipes could connect, and if the pipes were missing then the water would simply leak out.
Jaune didn't really understand it at first, but the more he learned about it, the more he at least understood the meaning of what he was being told.
A soul leaking wasn't anything new, most mage families had at least one person whose Soul Circuits were malformed, and behaved unnaturally. Most people with the condition simply learned to redirect the energy flowing from their soul to another Soul Circuit.
And if he didn't have the memories of Aura, then he wouldn't be able to manipulate the energy leaking out of his soul.
Confronted by the knowledge, that even with the strength from his previous life, he was still simply just a weak child, almost broke him. But shortly after that event, Ioanna Arc had been accepted as a mage student at a small academy.
His sister's ego eventually swelled up and she truly believed she was the best out of her siblings, and that she would be better than her parents one day too. Some sort of mage superiority had taken root in her while she studied magic. Her new attitude had isolated herself from her friends and family, but she didn't seem to mind much.
Jaune didn't particularly care, in his previous life he had never been especially close to his sisters, as they were seven girls and he was the only boy among them.
He could always tell when they excluded him to have a girls only chat, and he could never connect with them on a deep level. Whenever he tried to help, one of his older sisters always knew what his other sister needed better than he would ever.
He had felt isolated in his own home sometimes, and when his sister had interacted with him, he mostly ended up feeling ashamed. Whenever they experienced boy problems, he was constantly told to never be like them, and his own behavior constantly corrected to fit their view.
Maybe he was exaggerating, in fact he was almost certain he was, but he hadn't seen many good memories with his sisters amongst the shards.
His sisters often emasculated him and called him cute as they dressed him up in female clothing, and they often told him he would've made a cute girl, that it was too bad that he was a guy. So sometimes he hated having been born differently than his sisters, and he also sometimes hated them for making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.
Or so he gathered from what remained of his memories of them, and now he hated himself a bit for not being able to remember any of the good times. In his new life, he found himself putting up a wall between him and his sisters as a result of only remembering the bad times.
Anyway, when Ioanna isolated herself, she didn't attempt to reflect and change her behavior, no she only became more belligerent as a result. Having strong magic at her fingertips, was similar to having a weapon in her hand, and simply pointing at someone was enough for them to relent to her whims.
The sense of power had definitely gone to her head, and one day she had even pointed at Florence over a trivial matter. Their mom snapped her wrist then punched her in the gut hard enough to make her vomit and pass out.
Jaune had been cleaning nearby in a daze, still not back to full spirits yet, so he saw the whole thing go down, and then he was told to drag his sister to her room. His mother didn't show her emotions much, and was often harshly blunt, but when she punched his sister, he remembered the look on her face from when she had punched him, it was rage.
It was then that he realized his mindset had been similar to Ioanna's, they had both gotten power and thought themselves stronger than they were. It was simple, even with his Aura, it wouldn't do much against magic, he would die. He had thought himself capable of battle before he even knew what battle was in this world.
His other sisters had averted their eyes and hurried away as he dragged his sister down the hall. She had been the oldest and most loved, but now everyone avoided her. Unfortunately, he found himself feeling a sort of connection with her, his emotions had gotten the best of him and he felt bad for her, his fellow outcast.
So after dragging her onto her bed, he wiped her face, hair, and shirt clear of her vomit. And then stayed by her side for a while. When his mom was done cooking, she stopped by and healed her.
Ioanna woke with a gasp, and then she bit back a shout as her fingers twitched and she looked away from their mom.
"Wash your hands before coming down for dinner." That was all Florence said as she started walking away.
"W-wait!" Ioanna shouted as she looked confused. "What the fuck? That's all? Like, I literally just pointed at you, that's all, and then you punch me out cold. Shouldn't we talk about that?"
Their mom tilted her head slightly, and then her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Right." She nodded. "Don't do that." And then she turned around.
Jaune wasn't clear on who that was meant for.
"Y-you can't just brush past this!" His sister was evidently fed-up with something. And in a fit, she raised her hand again.
In the blink of an eye, their mom was beside her daughter and with the swipe of a glowing green hand, she chopped down on Ioanna's extended wrist.
A hand fell on the bed, separated from an arm without a single drop of blood.
His sister screamed as she clutched at her stump of disfigured flesh, she kicked and rolled around on her bed in agony.
"Shh." Florence swiped her hand across her daughter's throat, and left behind twisted flesh. Her daughter silently screamed without a voice until her eyes rolled back and she fainted. "Wash your hands before you come down to eat, Jaune." She turned to her son and spoke as she picked up the separated hand.
"I-I'll stay here and look after her for a bit." He had been more than a bit surprised at his mother's ability, but emotion wise she wasn't that much different than in previous memories, and he could remember fondly what he was sure was her absolute love for her children.
He still had to wonder just what about her life and power in this world had led her to this type of behavior. If it was his previous life, his mother would've simply taken away some jewelry or toys.
"Okay. Inform her that she'll get her voice back in a day, and her hand back when she learns to behave." She turned on her heels and walked away.
It was a while until Ioanna had managed to get her arm back, and the only real change was her cautious attitude towards their mom. And by that time, Jaune had already come up with an idea for his own goals.
His sister had some healing magic, and was learning offensive spells too, so she would make for a good sparring partner. And fighting a weak mage would let him grow accustomed to them.
She had no qualms about using her magic on a child, her own little brother no less, and so for hours she would incapacitate him and then heal him over and over again until she was exhausted.
It remained that way for almost a year, but when Jaune was nine and helping out his family by cleaning up their storage room, he found something odd tucked away. A rusty pocket watch, the dull silver and faded golden materials that it was made out of reminded him of the gears in his dream.
As he held the item, his Aura flowed with purpose up his arm and out the skin of his palm. As a white glow flooded the watch, gears churned and the twisted metal hands twitched. He immediately felt weak and fell to his knees, more than half of his Aura had been swallowed up.
It would take a while until he discovered the rusty watch's true ability. He had learned from his father that it was a mystic artifact passed down the Arc family, a gift to an old ancestor from a strange knight, but no one was able to find out how it was used. So they just kept it as a trophy of sorts, an antique to recall an interesting story.
Jaune investigated around, asking anyone with any sort of knowledge about mystic artifacts, reading any book that described them.
At its most basic, a mystic artifact was simply a special magical armament, the range of effects was vast, but the quality was often terrible. Unless a master mystical artisans created it, then it would likely break or just wouldn't work most of the time.
Items with simple effects and a fixed usage were easy to make though, but the more simple it was the less likely a mage needed it as they could accomplish the same effect for less energy. So it was mostly people with magical energy and little to none magical training that used them.
In common society, they were simply just tools to help out, but for high-class sorcerers they were a sign of incompetence and as something that only a lesser mage would use. The outcome of this view, led to almost none common combat-viable mystic artifacts on the market, as mages wouldn't use them in battle, and normal people wouldn't have any use for them around the house.
In his research he had not found a single claim that would lead him to believe he wouldn't be able to use one. They simply required magical energy, and he had that but he just couldn't use it for any spells. The only real issue he found was the consumption of energy, most only used a bit of processed magical energy, but the difference between processed and raw was vast.
It would take nearly ten times the amount of energy for him to use a simple and cheap mystic artifact, so he couldn't really gauge how much he would need to spend on an ancient and seemingly complex pocket watch.
He didn't give up entirely on using mystic artifacts, but since he couldn't get his hands on any right now, he put that plan aside and just focused on re-learning how to use a sword. He couldn't really use a shield yet, and even with one it wouldn't make a difference if he got hit, so for now he focused on learning to dodge.
One day, when his sister was in a really bad move, she had broken their agreement, and used an intermediate spell that she had learned recently. A volley of icicles shot straight through his chest, with his body now adorned with honeycomb-like holes, his blood gushed out, and he felt his soul dissipate as his body was growing numb.
In his final moments alive, he heard a faint sound.
Tock.
Jaune stumbled back as he found himself standing just as he had been a few seconds ago, and his sister drew back a glowing hand with irritation clearly visible on her face. Without a second thought, he dove to the ground, as violent icicles screeched through the air and punctured through a thick tree.
His heart pounded with hot blood, and his lungs took in desperate gasps of air. His brain felt like it was boiling in his blood and his eyes felt like they were melting. He clutched at his chest, where he had just felt vivid pain. All these sensations at least made it clear that he hadn't imagined his near death.
He examined his rusty pocket watch, and found the smallest twisted hand which had been pointing at ten, was now aimed at one. And in his hands, he felt his Aura being sucked up once more.
This mystic artifact allowed his soul to travel back in time a few seconds. From what he guessed, when the item itself was destroyed, it activated automatically.
Over the next year, he would eventually discover how to control the activation. To use it manually, he needed to allow his Aura to flow through the pocket watch, and when he wanted to activate the effects he needed to reverse the flow in the clock.
As Jaune used its effect, he got more and more familiar with it, and soon he was able to store more than one flow in the clock. Still, that didn't change the activation cost or his amount of Aura.
Each usage required a significant amount of Aura, and when his soul was sent back, what he spent in those seconds weren't replenished.
He did come up with a small countermeasure to ensure he wasn't constantly wasting Aura, he would only reverse the flow after his body was already in motion from an explosive usage of Aura.
But, even as he used the mystic artifact, he knew he wasn't using it at its full power, so far he has only been able to move the smallest twisted hand of the three in total. He hoped to at least move the middle twisted hand within five years.
When he thought about it, he considered himself to be extremely fortunate to have encountered such a powerful item. However, when he gazed at the item, an unfamiliar nostalgia washed over him, and he couldn't help but imagine it was fate that led it to his hands.
Jaune felt his reminiscence end as his mind started to fade away from the dark dreamscape, a sign that he was waking up.
AN: Would you prefer a slave-maid: Blake or Cinder?
Last edited: