Cherreads

Chapter 3 - 3. Reborn(3)

The Arc manor's dining hall was a place of wealth and finesse.

Polished oak furniture gleamed under the light of enchanted chandeliers that floated gently above the table, suspended by soft, glowing runes. The long table was covered in an ivory-white cloth trimmed in silver, with polished cutlery laid out in perfect symmetry before each seat. Bowls of fruit, platters of roasted meats, fresh breads, and magically preserved greens had already been placed with care. The maids stood silently at the ready, stationed along the walls like watchful shadows.

Jaune sat quietly at the far left of the table, one hand idly tracing the rim of his goblet.

He didn't say anything, simply listening to their conversations.

Across from him, his mother, was delicately sipping her tea. Seraphina Arc was a woman of sharp cheekbones and platinum blonde hair. She had a sharp intuition, and and even sharper sense of style. Her robes were simple but elegant, threaded with subtle arcane weaves that hinted at comfort enchantments woven into the fabric. Her eyes, bright amber, were currently focused on her second eldest daughter.

The glowing words, [Appraisal Master] floated gently in the air above her head.

Verona Arc sat two seats down from her, speaking with poised confidence.

"…I've confirmed with the shipping guild in Seabranch," Verona was saying, hands folded properly on the table. "The northern docks are being cleared for incoming vessels from Vacuo. If the tides stay on schedule, our shipment of refined metals should reach the port by the twenty-fifth."

Their father, Garric Arc, gave an approving nod. Unlike his wife, Garric, had a rougher appearance—broad shoulders, short graying beard, and the quiet weight of a man who had fought for every coin he'd earned. His class—[Merchant Lord]—was floating above his head as well. His class was both a variant of the regular Merchant class, which his daughter had, and higher level than many nobles in the capital. Some said the only reason he hadn't taken a seat on the Valean Council was because he preferred his independence.

"Good," Garric said. "Make sure the paperwork is sealed and notarized before departure. Refined metals are valuable. Too valuable to let any guild scribes mishandle it with ink-stained fingers."

"I'll handle it personally," Verona replied.

"Make sure you do," Seraphina added, glancing over the rim of her teacup. "And take an extra security escort. Bandit tribes have been spotted more frequently, these days."

"I'll increase the retainer count from four to six," Verona assured her.

Jaune sat quietly through the exchange, chewing a piece of fruit without really tasting it.

He felt out of place.

The new him—who had died—was painfully aware of how out of sync he felt with the gilded decorum of his family. The food was fresh, the silver was polished, and yet, beneath it all, he could feel the weight of invisible chains.

He was an Arc, born of merchants and scholars, destined to trade and negotiate… not fight.

And yet… his class disagreed.

"Sis, pass the butter," a small voice interrupted from the side.

Jaune's eyes flicked to the far end of the table, where a younger girl—Melty Arc—sat swinging her legs beneath her chair. Barely ten, with snow-like, soft blonde hair and a big smile, she was the youngest of the Arc children. Her class was Scholar, same as Lucille's

Lucille, who sat beside her, passed the butter with a nod. Her posture poised and her expression was neutral.

Except when she looked at Jaune.

Which she did, several times.

Her gaze would linger a second longer than normal—seemingly drawn not just to him, but to something about him. Her expression was unreadable, but Jaune caught the way her lips parted slightly, and the way she looked away a beat too late.

He did his best not to read too much into it.

He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath until Melty asked Lucille another question—some inane remark about rune translations and how she wanted to hire an enchanter to make her bedroom lamp change colors. Lucille responded coolly, all intellect and grace, but she didn't look at Melty long.

Her eyes drifted again.

Jaune turned back to his plate.

He didn't know what she was thinking. Maybe she was remembering his appearance in the garden. Or maybe she was curious. Or suspicious.

But she said nothing. And neither did he.

He had grown up this way—quiet at the table, listening more than speaking. Even when he disagreed with his parents, even when he longed to challenge their decisions, he had always stayed silent.

Meek and compliant.

When they said he couldn't train out in the field, he didn't push back. When they said the world outside was too dangerous for their boy with a combat class, he didn't argue.

They had filled the manor with hired swords, built walls of wealth and reputation, and forged his life like a transaction—one where risk was unacceptable and caution was law.

He had, in a rare act of defiance, went against their will, fought a grimm for the first time and died in the process.

It was actually quite hilarious. If Jaune hadn't transmigrated with his Aura, this body would have already been a cooling corpse, destined to make the Arc family cry in pain.

Jaune sighed. Unfortunately, things were going to have to change. Jaune needed the change.

His gaze flicked toward Verona.

She would be his way out. Not that she knew it yet.

But the seed of the plan was already growing in his mind—nourished by the conversations he overheard at this very table. If he played his part well, if he remained quiet and obedient just a while longer, he could use their own assumptions to cloak his escape.

"I'll be away for a month at most," Verona was saying. "Once the inventory is finalized and the auction held, I'll return with the earnings and send back the surplus cargo on the second caravan."

Seraphina nodded. "Take the estate's agents with you. If there's one thing the coast breeds, it's pirates."

"I already requested Maren."

His father raised a brow. "He still alive?"

"Just barely."

A chuckle moved around the table. Even Melty giggled, though she clearly didn't get the joke.

Jaune didn't laugh. But he did smile.

Just a little.

And when no one was looking, he glanced sideways—toward Verona, toward the future.

The Arc dining hall was still alive with quiet conversation and the soft clatter of cutlery when Jaune finally set down his goblet.

He cleared his throat, softly. "Father. Mother."

The words came out more timidly than he'd intended, but that worked in his favor. Better to lean into the meek persona they'd grown used to.

Both heads turned toward him.

Seraphina tilted her chin slightly, golden eyes narrowing faintly, as if appraising his next words. She had always watched him with scrutiny, worried about his ambitions. Her class, gave her an uncanny perception—not just of goods, but of people and their emotions. Their intent.

Jaune had to be careful.

"Yes, Jaune?" Garric Arc rumbled, mid-cut of a sausage link. He looked more intrigued than stern. "Something on your mind?"

Jaune nodded, feigning hesitation.

"I was thinking… maybe I could accompany Verona on her trade expedition."

Silence fell like a blanket over the table. Even Melty paused mid-bite, fork hanging in the air.

Seraphina's brow rose, her expression unreadable, and Garric's knife stopped short.

Verona blinked. "You?"

"I just…" Jaune looked down, fiddling with the edge of his plate. "I haven't left Ansel since I was little. Only those two trips to the capital. I thought maybe it would be good to see more of the world. To learn."

It was a good excuse—honest even, in some sense.

But he could feel his mother's eyes boring into him.

She was reading him. Measuring his sincerity not just by words but by heartbeat and breath. Her passive ability could detect many things, including lies wrapped in emotion. What she couldn't do, however, was sense the intent he had buried beneath emotional calm.

Curiously enough, he felt the warm flush of his Aura flux underneath his skin, somehow, actively calming him and suppressing his negative emotions.

Seraphina finally spoke, perhaps satisfied with what she had 'appraised.' "You've never shown much interest in travel, Jaune."

"I suppose I'm trying to change that," he said softly, shrugging. "I've always stayed here. I just… wanted to try something new."

That was close enough to the truth that no spike of emotion nor misplaced tension rose.

Still, his father leaned back in his chair, expression thoughtful.

"Seems like unnecessary exposure," Garric said. "If something were to happen on the road—"

"I'll watch over him," Verona said suddenly, cutting in smoothly.

All eyes turned to her.

She set down her fork, fingers interlaced gracefully before her. "He wouldn't be alone and I'll also have a full escort. He'll be traveling in the carriage with me. We can even call it a bonding trip. It might do him some good to see how our network works outside of the estate. If he's going to manage anything in the future, he needs to understand the breadth of it."

Garric blinked. "You're volunteering to babysit?"

"I'm saying I'll look after my little brother," she said, tone cool but with a faint smile. "We've barely spoken in years, and the household's been heavy lately with business. Why not let him come along? He could use the experience."

Seraphina glanced at Verona, then back to Jaune. He kept his expression blank—not too hopeful or too intense. He had to let it seem like this was curiosity, not desperation.

"…Hm," she murmured.

Garric stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You'd be responsible for him."

"I know."

"And if anything happens—"

"It won't," Verona cut in gently.

Seraphina turned her gaze back to Jaune. "You would listen to your sister? Obey her decisions without question?"

"Yes," Jaune said without missing a beat. "She knows more than I do."

A pause.

Then, finally, Seraphina gave a small nod. "Very well. You may accompany her."

Jaune exhaled slowly, nodding with a quiet "Thank you."

Verona gave him a subtle smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was calculating something too, though Jaune didn't know what. Still, she had helped him, and he would remember that.

Across the table, Lucille was quite still.

Her fork rested on her plate, untouched. Her gaze was not on the food nor her parents. It was on Jaune. She was quietly studying him. Her expression, sharp.

There appeared to be no suspicion in her expression—not overt at least. But Jaune could tell that her eyes were too focused.

Too aware.

She didn't speak or challenge his request.

Perhaps it was instinct. But Jaune could feel something off about her. She suspected something. Perhaps she might grow to become a problem.

He offered a small, apologetic smile in her direction to disarm her from her thoughts.

She blinked once and looked away.

Jaune focused back on his plate, heart steady. Barely a pulse out of place. He had done it.

He had planted the seed of his escape.

Now… all he had to do was make sure it sprouted at the right time.

The rest of breakfast passed with little fanfare.

Idle conversation buzzed between the family members, mostly between Verona and his parents, occasionally joined by Melty's innocent questions or Lucille's dry commentary. Jaune remained quiet, content to let their voices drift past him like wind through trees. His mind was elsewhere, already steps ahead, thinking of certain things he had to accomplish before the excursion.

When the dishes had been cleared and the maids excused, he stood and excused himself, making his way back to his room without further delay.

Once inside, Jaune shut the door, locked it, and leaned against the frame for a moment.

Then he crossed the room and sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed, letting his thoughts settle. The silence was a welcome companion.

He closed his eyes and reached inward.

Aura.

The light of the soul.

In the original show, Aura was mentioned often, but rarely explored in true depth. Its properties made it act as a defensive shield, similar to a forcefield, as well as enhancing the body's capabilities. Speed, strength, reflexes, all of those turned Huntsmen into paragons of power.

But that was just the surface.

He was sure of it.

In his memories of Earth, Jaune had always felt like the show had left so much untapped. There had been glimpses—Pyrrha's control, Ren's emotional suppression, his own aura enhancement ability—but nothing truly mechanical or systematic.

Now, he was in a world where mechanics governed growth.

A System ruled over reality which mean that the feats that could be performed in this world also vastly surpassed what was possible in the original universe.

And he was the only one, as far as he knew, with a stat for Aura.

That couldn't be coincidence. Which meant that it was most likely his transmigration boon.

He shut his eyes tighter and focused inward.

The warmth rose within him—subtle at first. Like a flickering ember deep in his chest. He focused on it, breathing slowly, deliberately.

The ember grew.

It expanded outward in gentle pulses, radiating from the center of his soul. It moved into his arms, down his legs and back up into his head. It wrapped around his form like a second skin—glowing, but only faintly, practically invisible to the eye. Jaune didn't need to see it to know it was there.

He felt it.

Using his aura felt like flexing an ethereal muscle that never been there before. Neither of his two life experiences granted him the knowledge of using it but he could use it all the same.

He pushed slightly harder, drawing more of that warmth out and consciously directing it. Not just letting it shield his body passively like armor, but bending its flow with intention.

He imagined the aura pooling in his right arm.

The sensation shifted immediately—his arm felt lighter, denser. Stronger.

He opened his eyes and extended the limb, watching it tremble faintly with ethereal energy. Jaune couldn't help but draw parallels between the Aura stat and the Magic stat. His Aura had a white sheen to it and seemed almost similar to Ki energy that was mentioned from many stories.

Mana from this world usually manifested as elemental power, having attributes and special sheens that could also grant people interesting abilities. It was predominantly blue in color but changed its nature based on intent.

Jaune didn't have access to mana yet. His Magic stat was still 0. This was partly due to him having a physical oriented combat class. Fortunately, mana was not locked away from him. Classes like his would typically receive their first Magic stat at level 10 with subsequent increases every 10 levels.

Jaune clenched his fist.

The pressure in his knuckles responded—not in pain, but in tension and power. He threw a light punch forward in the air and felt a faint gust of air, trail behind the motion. The air seemingly whined with the speed.

He blinked.

That was... not normal.

He switched focus, pushing the energy into his legs. Then stood. The sensation was jarring.

His legs felt like tightly coiled springs—every muscle saturated with potential. He crouched slightly, then leapt straight up—

—and nearly crashed into the wooden beams of the ceiling.

He twisted midair and landed in a half-crouch on the bed frame, eyes wide, heart thudding.

"Holy hells…" he muttered under his breath.

This was a powerful passive enhancement. With fine control, he could potentially concentrate his aura into individual body parts which would amplify their performance beyond what normal boosts would allow.

Like directing energy from a battery into a single wire instead of the whole grid. He sat again, slower this time.

The implications were staggering.

If he could learn to regulate this—to shift aura mid-combat, from arm to leg to eye reflex, or even concentrate it all into a single strike—he could fight far beyond his current level. Especially if no one else in the world even understood how to manipulate Aura like this.

And that wasn't even touching his Semblance. Jaune closed his eyes again, reaching inward, this time with a question.

'What is my Semblance?'

In the show, his had been enhancement—amplifying the aura of others. But here, in a world where there would be no semblances, what exactly would he enhance?

Jaune wasn't sure for whatever ability his semblance was, he had no partner to test on.

No fellow Aura-user to amplify.

'Maybe it's locked behind a trigger,' he thought. 'Maybe it needs to be awakened—through emotional strain, or danger. Or maybe…'

"Maybe I won't even have a semblance here..."

In any case, Jaune had to dedicate some time for practice.

He exhaled and let the aura fade, letting it drift back into his core. The warmth receded, leaving behind only a tingling feeling in his muscles and veins.

He opened his eyes and stared ahead.

This was only the beginning because Jaune was certain that his aura had the potential to become his greatest weapon.

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