I picked up Final Fantasy XV again this week. I- there's a noodle hat that appears during the cutscenes, like, a
fully modelled cup noodle helmet that's an honestly good piece of equipment, you can turn the Regalia into a
monster truck, there's some kind of alien exoskeleton armour thing, and a freaking
Assassin's Creed sidestory where they actively namedrop the series and quote it like some kind of bad fanfic-
I mean, I'm not
complaining, I'm just
really confused.
Ooooooor we get two more of these and start the Process before chapter 1 officially starts.
... You realise that after this update, you have a one in sixteen chance of getting the Process, right? And that that chance is going
up with every update? Is it really worth wasting 200 points on something you could very well get for free on the next turn?
I
intend for you to get the Process before the Forever Fall trip. I'm not fudging numbers, but that's when I intend for them to be a thing.
Also, if anyone's interested in that RWBY/My Hero Academia crossover,
that has its own thread now!
Which leads neatly into my next point- for future reference, if anybody ends up starting something new because of this quest, whether writing an omake inspires you or something like that, mention me there and I will
happily tell people in this thread about it. Hell, even if you don't want me to do that, mention me anyway, because why
wouldn't I wanna see it?
Anyway, go. Read. It good.
Unfortunately, due to personal injuries, the second half of this update may be delayed somewhat. Normally, I would just suck it up, but the bandages I'm wearing make me feel like I'm smashing my keyboard with raw sausages, which is... just slightly irritating, to say the least.
Dream Roll: 442
No dream tonight. Shame.
Monday - Wednesday
Your mother comes into your room with the intent of, going by the whistle in her hand, waking you up at pretty much the crack of dawn. So, when she sees that you're up, typing away at a holographic keyboard, that kind of throws her off.
"... Please tell me that you haven't been up all night." She asks instead.
"No, I forgot to turn off my alarm and I couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought I should work on something."
You glance at the whistle, now hanging almost forlornly from her neck, and wonder why she was going to wake you up so early anyway.
"... Like... sword practice?" She ventures.
Ah. Ah.
... Eh, sure. You save and close your work on Ping() and get up, stretching the inactivity out of your limbs.
"Sure. Can I get dressed first?"
The whistle is deafening.
"You have five minutes!" She yells, leaving you scrambling to get into something training-worthy.
Still, despite the drill sergeant act, you can tell she's enjoying herself immensely if the little grin that took over her face after the whistle was blown and stayed right there until you got outside is anything to go by.
{I think she's just happy to have something to do. Something Huntress-related, at least.}
You don't get a chance to think about that too hard as your mother throws Crocea Mors at you. You just about catch it, hugging the scabbard close to your chest so you don't drop the 80-year-old war relic.
"Ok, today, you're getting a taster in using sword and shield, since, you know, that's how Crocea Mors is meant to be used. See the handle on the scabbard, the same bit you use to hook it onto your belt? There should be a little switch there, should fit between your middle and ring fingers."
You hold it as your mother instructs, and feel the tiny switch exactly where she described. After a bit of experimentation, you manage to press it down, and the sheath responds violently. With a slight hiss, several metal panels shoot out in quick succession, settling down and fitting together absolutely seamlessly as the handle tightens up, wrapping around your hand as another strap wraps itself around your forearm, just below your elbow. Holding it up, you realise one immediate difference.
Swinging to the left is gonna be awkward as fuck with a shield. Not impossible, but you'll need to lower it to do it with any effectiveness. Glancing at your instructor, you see her smirking knowingly.
"Figured out the problem?"
"Only half the angles if I wanna keep it up?"
"Exactly. That's the price of protection. And since you're learning how to use a shield, I don't think the tree stump's going to be a very good opponent today."
You mean, fair enough, but what are you gonna do instea- oh no.
You bring your shield close as soon as you realise what she means, angling it to deflect the bayonet-sword thrown at you. You watch it flit back to your mother's hand, the carbon fibre wire glinting slightly in the morning light.
"Shield foot straight forward! Sword foot back and at an angle!" She yells, launching towards you at a frankly terrifying speed.
Just barely managing to follow her instruction, you fend off another attack, and another, and another, every strike forcing you to give ground. Looking past your shield, you note whatever happiness was in her face before is gone, replaced with a hard-set stare, and you almost lose an eye for your curiosity. You get the feeling that was the last instruction you're being afforded.
Roll: 15+15= 30/21- Skill Up!
D+ => C- (New Threshold: 9/120)
Congratulations! You are now average at this skill! Good job reaching that baseline, champ!
In a moment of sheer frustration at being pinned like this, constantly giving ground to her, you thrust your shield forward with a yell, and you're rewarded with the sound of metal meeting jaw and the sight of your mother twirling to the ground. Ice fills your heart, and you drop your sword as you check on her.
"Mom!" You yell as you break stance to drop to your knees, checking on her.
{Uh, Jaune, you might wanna back off a lit-}
Before you can even say anything approaching an apology, the flat of her blade, bending with the speed she's sending it through the air, whips you across the jaw like a steel crop, and you find yourself on the ground, watching as your mother launches herself back onto her feet. You quickly bring the shield up to cover your chest and face, trying to protect your vital giblets.
{-le.}
You tried.
{AND YOU DIDN'T.}
A moment passes, and no strike comes. With no dearth of hesitation, you lower your shield and see her offering you a hand instead, a slight smirk back where it belongs.
"I'm not made of glass, honey." She says as she pulls you up. "It's been a while since I took a shield to the jaw. Usually takes people a bit to get used to the idea that the shield is as much of a weapon as the sword."
You blink, laughing nervously. You don't really know how to admit that you just got kind of frustrated and did the only thing you could.
"Uh, yeah, just... maybe a little less intense, please? At least for now?"
Your mother's smile warms a little, and she sighs gently.
"Yeah. Sorry. I guess I've been itching for a fight a lot harder than I thought. So, uh, thanks for knocking some sense into me."
Laughing a little easier at that, you get back into stance, and raise your weapons.
|||
Roll D50: 23
Roll 1d20: 20!
Roll 1d10: 8
Burnout (Overtraining) avoided- Physical training available next week. One burnout point added. (Two threshold fails needed to burn out on a subject- only applicable to the week after it is earned.)
Midweek Event- Professor Mary Edwards Teal
You walk to the address Professor Teal gave you on Friday, and find yourself in front of an apartment block.
... Huh. You're not sure why but you expected something more... homely.
{On a teacher's salary?}
Point taken.
You walk up to the front door and look for her name on the set of buzzers.
{410.}
Ah, there you go- Mary Teal. You press the buzzer for a few seconds, before waiting for a reply. A few moments later, it crackles to life, and you hear a slice of her life.
"Ah, Rosie, don't paint your brother! Uh, h-hello?"
"Hey, it's Jaune. Is... now a bad time?"
"Oh! Jaune, uh, no, no, now's not a bad time, it's just a little hectic, but now's fine- gah, Robin, don't paint her back! Uh, just come up, I have to take care of this!"
The connection cuts out, and you're left wondering what in God's name is happening up there.
{Kids, Jaune. Kids are happening.}
Joy.
Steeling yourself, you walk through, quickly taking your Scroll out and showing it to the doorman before he can say anything, presenting the medical documents that have saved your ass from the police more than once. He glances at them, then at the floating sword.
"... You know what, if there's ever been something actually above my pay grade, it's this."
Smart man. You walk on, taking one look at the tiny lift and realising that you're going to have to take the stairs. How many floors up again?
{Four. Not that bad.}
The hallway of the apartment complex is about as plain as you can get- two-tone wallpaper, cream carpet that's probably been here since the Faunus Revolution, and simple cast iron radiators at periodic intervals.
No hot water flow detected. Radiators non-functional.
{I'm fairly sure that's illegal.}
You are too. Is it due to a fault, or are they just not on?
Unknown.
Hrm. Weird. Setting that aside, you knock on her door, hearing the sound of children laughing and Teal trying her best to keep them under control. After a minute or so, she opens the door, and you're faced with the tiny woman's paint-spattered face and dress, panting slightly from the exertion.
"Ah, ha, hello, Jaune. Sorry, I'm, my neighbours had some kind of emergency with their youngest, so they rushed her up to the hospital, and I offered to keep an eye on the others while they were out, and they're just… a handful." She finishes lamely. "Uh, please, come in!"
You step past her, and into an apartment painted like a modern art piece.
You don't think that's intentional.
It's a nice apartment by all standards- not large exactly, but not claustrophobic, the walls white and cream in the same two-tone pattern as outside. Small ornaments adorn tables, from little figurines to glass paperweights, and a few pictures of Teal and some other people you don't know, two men and a woman. She's young enough that you can't really see a marked difference between the picture and the woman herself, but she somehow... looks happier in it. A few paintings are hung here and there, some of the Vale mountains, some cottages, all done in the same, loose, almost impressionistic style, to the point where you're not sure they weren't done by the same person. They're nice, all very obviously labours of love, and it breaks your heart when you see that they've not escaped the great spattering of two children given access to paint.
Speaking of, here comes the two hellspawn now. You watch as two children flit from room to room, maybe three or four at the oldest, a boy and a girl, yelling and laughing and generally acting like the little Cain-raisers they are.
"Ah, no running!" Teal half-heartedly yells after them, her voice tired, lacking conviction. "Oh, why did I think giving them cola was a good idea..."
You watch as she rubs her temples, and can't help but feel a stab of sympathy for her. The children, apparently capable of sensing emotional weakness, pop their heads out from behind a doorframe, looking directly at you, and for a moment you regret ever developing empathy for other human beings.
"Woah... coow!" The boy yells, apparently a signal for the two of them to rush you. "Woss that?" He asks you, pointing to your sword as he waddles at you.
You give him a big smile, crouching down and meeting his eyes. Little words for little people.
"It's my big blue sword. I use it to hunt Grimm."
"... Can uh pway wiv it?" The girl asks you.
"No."
With that, you walk past them and into the living room proper, Teal offering you a seat.
{That was cold, even by our standards.}
What else could you say? 'Sure, just don't fire off any world-ending energy blasts?'
{... Point.}
You sit on the least-spattered portion of the couch, watching the kids go back to their game, apparently unaffected by your blunt refusal. Your host flops down on the couch with you, her head swinging over the edge as she takes a deep breath.
"... Any idea when they're gonna go?" You ask, not even trying to hide your mild discomfort around them.
She giggles a little. "Well, it was an emergency. I, um, I saw the poor thing, sh-she was wheezing for breath and they were almost pulling their hair out over her, and this... it's one thing less on their minds."
You hum in agreement.
"Er, so... how does this work? Scanning my Semblance, I mean. Do I need to do anything, or...?"
"Well, technically, I started scanning it the moment I got into the building. Ideally, you'd be able to use it, but… I don't think that's a good idea."
She blanches a little, quickly nodding her head in agreement.
"I-I see. So... we just, sit around for however long it's going to take?"
"And keep an eye on the kids, I guess."
For some reason, that makes her smile.
"Well... at least it won't be dull."
|||
Almost as if to spite Teal's prediction, the kids suffer a nasty sugar crash after a while and they're soon curled up on the other couch, taking a nap. Thankfully, their parents apparently predicted this and gave your professor blankets for them. Right now, she's enjoying a cup of calming tea and generally looks more relaxed than she has for the entirety of your visit. You only requested a glass of water when asked, trying not to impose.
Bracket pores over the information the scan is giving him, and it's... enlightening. Her Semblance seems to work not by healing the wound in question, but by... convincing the body that it was never there in the first place.
Well, ok, that's not exactly how it works- essentially it lends the affected part enough energy to heal and grow while suppressing the formation of scar tissue and correcting anything that would impede proper function afterwards.
{She's like a one-woman team of doctors and surgeons. It's... amazing. Where's the downside?}
Indiscriminate- the energy is imparted to all living organisms it's directed at. Could lead to infections worsening, possibly to a fatal degree.
Oh. Well, that's... annoying.
Only seems to affect infections that have set in, e.g, cellulitis or SSIs. More data needed- suggest questioning her.
{I agree, but be careful. If her speech at the test was anything to go by, I think she might have a few nerves you don't want to push.}
"Jaune?"
You snap out of your mental conference call, looking over at Professor Teal.
"Oh, sorry, I'm just looking over the data I've got so far. Er, would you mind if I ask you a few questions about your Semblance, just to confirm some things?"
Teal blinks, before nodding hesitantly, seeming somewhat unsure about where you're going with this.
"Well, first of all, tell me what your Semblance does, and the mechanics behind it, if you can."
She takes a moment, bringing her knuckles to her mouth in thought, her brow furrowing.
"... I... suppose I would describe it as healing. I've never, had it formally tested, so you know more about the specifics than I do, but I've never ended up having to deal with complications afterwards, for what it's worth. I suppose the only things I can do that are out of the realms of medical science, as far as I know, anyway, are reattaching entire limbs, and..." She trails off, sighing a little.
{Wait.}
You do so.
"... At least one case of severe brain damage." She finishes a few moments later, looking away from you.
You feel your eyebrows rise. Brain damage?
That's... hoo boy.
"Inherent, or trauma-based?" You ask, appeasing Bracket as he yells at you to grill her on that, tact be damned.
"Er, trauma-based. It was..." She stops, and you can see her begin to bite the inside of her lip as she debates with herself over something.
"You don't need to tell me the full story if you don't want to."
She huffs a little when you say that, but manages a smile.
"It's fine, I'm just... trying to figure out how to say it. A few years ago, there was a Huntress, she got separated from her team, then caught by a Beowolf pack. They broke her Aura, but she managed to get away from them for a moment, and she decided... if she was going to die, she was going to do it on her own terms. Her team was less than thirty seconds away, and when they found her, she wasn't dead, but she wasn't... there. Weeks after, she couldn't speak, couldn't walk, couldn't even swallow properly, she didn't seem to be aware of anything. One day, she fell asleep, and just... didn't wake up. One of her teammates heard about me, somehow, and called to see if I could help, and... I could."
She smiles, the tiniest hint of sadness lurking in the expression.
... Holy shit.
{That's... god. I figured there was something, but... nothing like that.}
Any kind of excitement the three of you might have had about the idea of fixing brain trauma is smothered by her story, and you find yourself at a loss for words. Soon, the only sounds are the ticking of the clock and the mumbling of children in their sleep. Professor Teal seems to pick up on it and asks her own question instead of letting you stew in your own awkwardness.
"Erm... so... what does it look like? Erm, the data, I mean. I can't even begin to imagine what quantifying a Semblance would look like."
{Bracket?}
Projector ready.
"Like this." You say, flicking your wrist and sending your sword floating horizontally above her coffee table, the red eye glowing slightly as it projects the past half-hour's work a few feet above the table.
You learned quickly that basic 2-dimensional code just didn't cut it where Aura and Semblance quantification were concerned- the result was a file that usually measured terabytes in size, and several hundred billion lines long, almost as if boiling a metaphysical construct that essentially defined a person into a purely digital format was hard or something. So, you decided on a different approach. First, you tried Goedelisation, using the products of powers of prime numbers to try and compress information down, but that only led to slightly smaller gigantic block codes. Useful for a lot of stuff, but it's still...
It took a while, but Bracket figured out that dealing with the code in a 3D environment seemed to make things slightly more manageable in terms of searching for things. It was still terabytes in size, and the three of you had to create an entirely new language, not a coding language, an actual language, alphabet and all. After a while, it occurred to you that you had essentially boiled down one of the most complex metaphysical concepts into a language that could probably gently place every philosophical text on the subject on a table, then flip the table, off a cliff, and chase it with a molotov cocktail made from an entire fire Dust canister, so you decided enough was enough.
Combine the two, and you end up with a projected cube that at least partially describes your school nurse's soul.
"O-oh! It's..."
She watches the flowing script flit from place to place, a real-time version of Bracket's attempts to quantify the little things, trying to fit them into the larger puzzle, trying to make everything flow in a way that... makes sense. In a way that rings bells deep in her soul, seeing herself laid bare like this, in a way she knows on an instinctual level is... her. Everybody who's asked you to show them this sees themselves in it somewhere.
"... Beautiful. I don't understand it, not one bit, but it's... wonderful. I still can't quite believe that you can actually copy my Semblance like this."
"Well it'll be a few weeks before I can create a useable Function out of it, but... it's a start." You take a moment to think on your next question and figure some personal history is at least on the edge of kosher now. "So... what did you do, before Signal?"
Professor Teal blinks, not expecting the question, but goes to answer it anyway.
"Ah, I was... well, I suppose I was a something of a... medic, I suppose." She tells you. "I didn't stay with my team after Beacon, but my Semblance gained attention. I worked in less well-equipped hospitals when I could, but most of my work was as a hanger-on with other Hunter teams. I've... seen the worst that can happen to people. Limbs lost, half their bodies burned to a near crisp, gored by Boarbatusks... it did strain me a little, at times. But, I was helping people! And that's what matters, right?"
You nod gently, choosing not to interrupt, which she takes as a sign to continue.
"But... things just started to get too much. Cases like the Huntress I told you about were... almost my norm. I've heard that doctors deal with losing patients by remembering that they're only human, but... I healed them perfectly. What would take a doctor 12, 16 hours of surgery took me all of ten minutes. So, when I lost people anyway... I don't know if it hurt more than a regular doctor losing a patient, but... it stung. Then I started thinking about the others, people with genetic defects, people with cancer, people with diseases that made their bodies waste away, people I could do absolutely nothing for..."
She looks up, and you can see her blinking away tears, taking a moment to breathe and compose herself.
"... So... I stopped. Somebody dear to me pointed out that I was running myself into the ground, that I was only human... so I visited hospitals less and less, only took more and more severe cases, I... weaned myself off of acting like a panacea. Professor Moss heard about me, he told the principal, she offered me a job as a school nurse, and... here I am."
Despite yourself, you can feel your mouth hanging open, genuinely at a loss for words.
"I... I'm, sorry, I really don't know what to say."
You realise that the Teal in front of you is different from the Teal you're used to- gone is the overly-passive but well-meaning school nurse with a stutter, and instead, you're faced with a woman who's... infinitely more relaxed, but at the same time, she seems... so melancholic.
She looks at you, and a look of sheer mortification passes over her face.
"A-ah, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to, um, go on for so long about my personal life-" She stutters her way through an apology, and you gently remind her that you did ask.
She takes a sip of calming tea, only to wince in disgust as she discovers how cold it's gotten.
Somehow, things aren't as tense as they were a few minutes ago. And you're ok with that.
|||
Soon enough, maybe half an hour later, the kid's parents appear and take them off her hands, the father gathering their still sleeping forms up in his arms. You have the foresight to hide the Transistor in her kitchen, away from the eyes of zealous caretakers. You spend the rest of the time chatting away, and find that casual conversation actually flows easier, now that all the heavy stuff is out of the way. You learn some more about the paintings, and that she is, in fact, the artist behind them.
"Um, it started out as a way to relax, th-then I realised I was actually rather good at it!" She tells you, her stutter back in full force. It's odd, but she actually sounds more at ease when she has it.
{It's just what you're used to hearing.}
"... So... how does your Semblance work?" She asks after a while, curiosity in her voice. "I-I read your medical file, but I still don't... understand how you do what you do."
"Well... that's, complicated. I'm still trying to figure things out, but the most basic use for it is, well, acting like a human calculator- it feeds me a constant stream of information and tries to quantify and categorise everything around me, which wouldn't be too bad if it wasn't uncontrollable. The human brain isn't meant to take in that much information at once, let alone pull off the stuff I can do with the Transistor, and... I suffered for it. Once I built it, though, my Semblance had the processing power it wanted to run my Functions with, and I had something that could filter out the worst of the information, and, well, act as a focus for my Functions."
She nods, hesitantly at first, but slowly beginning to understand what you're saying.
"So... all this, being able to boil Semblances down to numbers, so you can copy them... it's just... math?" She asks with only the slightest hesitation.
"Pretty much, yeah. The problem is processing power. To do in a year what I'm almost done doing, you'd probably need... at least every piece of computing equipment in the CCT."
Are you right?
{Ehh...}
That's the low end of our estimates.
{Yeah, that's... way lowballing it.}
Your teacher blinks.
"... Heavens."
Your chat moves onto less personal topics, quickly finding that the two of you share a taste in literature, and time just flies by after that. By the time Bracket tells you that he's done, you're almost sad to leave.
"W-well, it's been lovely having you, Jaune. I suppose I should... start trying to clean up after the kids..." She mumbles, looking as though she'd rather do anything else.
{Well, while Bracket was dealing with her Semblance, I decided to try my hand at making Reboot() logs. Wanna try cleaning up?}
They are of acceptable standards. Certainly usable.
{Aw, shucks, yer makin' me blush.}
You see exactly no reason not to do that.
"Oh, uh, let me get that for you."
Before she can say anything, you wave your hand and your sword turned housemaid floats to the centre of the room, wireframe overlays appearing on every minuscule stain, paint spatter, cola spill, and ridding the apartment of them all in a thousand flashes of light. Teal blinks, this time to try and regain her sight, and when she does, she's greeted by the sight of a spotless apartment.
"... A-ah. Well, th-that's my evening freed up." She says, awkwardly smiling at you. "Um, thank you, I-I really wasn't looking forward to that."
You walk to the door, your sword following.
"Hey, it's the least I can do. Thank you for doing this, Professor Teal, it's going to help a lot of people."
"Jaune?"
You turn to look at her, your hand still on the handle, and see her smiling at you, the first genuinely, unconditionally happy smile you've seen out of her all night. She takes a deep breath, quickly composing herself for whatever she wants to say next.
"... Thank you. For listening, I mean. I... didn't realise I still felt as strongly about it as I do. Just... promise me something?"
"Uh, sure. What is it?"
"Don't... don't fall into the same trap I did. I don't expect you to, but... promise me you'll help people because you want to help people, not because others have guilted you into it."
Her face has lapsed into seriousness, obviously determined to get this promise from you.
"... I promise. I don't think I would have... but now I have no excuse to, right?"
She huffs, her smile returning and widening, reaching her eyes for the first time all day.
"No. You don't."
Coding
Ping()- 69+39+17+150+750=1025/1000- Function Complete!
Ping(): It's like a derringer minigun!
Active Slot Effect: Fire rapid kinetic charges in a straight line.
Upgrade Slot Effect: Reduce Turn() planning cost and speed up most Functions.
Passive Slot Effect: Move much farther in a single use of Turn().
MEM cost: 1
Turn() Cost: 1
Cache()- 85+82+78+150+250=645/700
Closer...
Directory_Repair() now in Alpha!
You know, contribute a little more beyond the occasional vote and comment, that sorta thing.
