Chapter 86 - My SI Stash #86 - The Reluctant Hero by SocialistBukharin (Pre RWBY) (1/2)

-A SI to Pre RWBY with the future version of Ozma stucked in his head, with the present Ozma stil alive in the vessel of Ozpin the Headmaster.

*He's become sort of an uncle to Ren and Nora. Author honestly reminds me of BANIX, they kind of have the same style which makes the reading better~~

Sypnosis: Remnant sounds like a fun place, right? Well, it isn't! This lowly Author woke up in quite the ugly predicament, one that I am experienced about... theoretically. No survival training, but an undying determination to not die here, I am ready to venture in this world of scary monsters, secret wars and incredibly confusing twists! True-ish Self-Insert and no pairing for me!

Rated: M

Words: 50K

Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13303782/1/The-Reluctant-Hero (SocialistBukharin)

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

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

Chapter 1-2 (exceptional)

The wonderful aspect of a reluctant hero is that he or she doesn't have to adhere to any stereotype, such as being incredibly strong or a trained kung-fu master. These can be average guys off the street; indeed, it's often their simple, homespun down-to-earth thinking that saves the day. This ordinariness is an important factor in allowing the audience to understand and bond with the hero.

- Quote from The Art of Game Characters, by Leo Artas.

You know about those stories where people get sent to other worlds, places that you think are fake but eventually turns out that those are actually true, just for the sake of some cosmical mission 'only you' can deal with? That is something that always hits people: escapism in the sweetest form, the kind of drug that no matter how addictive it is, you have to make use of it.

But sometimes escapism isn't as good as we hope, the bleach we ingest the moment we realize that reality will still find a way to make us all miserable. Sometimes the very journey is what makes us feel the worst as we could be detained from our world, kidnapped merely on the whim of some lazy deity with no compassion.

Just give empty words of encouragement, sprinkle in some super-power, and the meat-puppets start to dance like demented madmen.

Am I making sense with these words?

Obviously no one cares about the protagonist, they care about the actions they take, the words that are provided to make them realistic to the n_a_k_e_d eye and... I am incredibly tired.

Sometimes no one wants the isekai, either because the genre turns stale once in a while or because people build up on some emotionless shield for this kind of stuff. A need to preserve what is past, what was good and cherishable.

...Maybe I am. But in the moment of agony that follows the sense of realization, the dread that ever-consumes the sanity of someone that merely doesn't care... words stop making sense.

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That is why when I woke up in some shady alley in Mistral, Remnant (The world of RWBY for Pete's sake!), I was quite demoralized. I remembered the things I left undone and the lack of a need to escape to the real world eventually caught up with the childish awe and wonder of being somewhere far from trouble.

Imagine my discomfort when I learned I was now going to die. The kind of death that is not bestowed upon those who had their bodies destroyed, obliterated, or butchered, but the one of the mind, of the soul.

When I heard the voice of Ozpin questioning my current whereabouts, I felt nauseated at the mere idea of what I was facing. The Wizard lived, the previous host's soul didn't. When would it happen? I didn't know but at least it wasn't an innocent fifteen years old Oscar Pine going to face the tribulations of this sickening predicament.

The numbness caused by the situation vanished the same moment I felt the rain fall calmly around me, droplets reaching my skin and 'waking' me up. My body was cold, I was wearing light clothing and it was easy to get the chills. I blamed my previous introverted lifestyle but...

I was fine. The three words that made the world go 'round. We are all fine.

I bet whoever left me in this predicament expects me to merrily go on the jolly path to Canon, to face the great threats placed by Salem and... kill everyone. When the news reached my ears, that the protagonists were hellbent to reunite the relics...

I will not commit a genocide. I will not partake in any mass-murdering for the sake of someone being unable to face their ex-wife with normal procedures. A spineless coward that used humanity by manipulating them all to rush and die in front of an enemy that could easily be contained.

While Oscar and other previous hosts might have been unaware of Ozpin's slow climb through their defences, in an attempt to fully takeover their bodies one step at the time, I was fully aware, conscious and quite opposed to it.

So when I felt him trying to get a grip over my soul... I just shook him off. While this might sound overly-simple, I was surprised a bit myself over the easy process too. His voice turned into a whisper, possibly because the attempt may have been a drain on his limited reserves.

I smiled, my mind sounding clearer than before as I walked out of the village, my eyes glancing at the small signpost few meters away from the path I was walking into.

Oniyuri - 10km

Oh joy, I was going to have quite the march in front of me.

From this point onward, I decided to tune out my usual negativity, just to give myself an advantage of not getting stalked by any Grimm. How did I manage this?

When I start to sing calmly something that is as good as it is positive, my mind switches to a more cheerful mood.

So, picking up the pace and smiling tentatively, I started to hum the marching song and then...

I was singing loudly, completely whisking away my sense of self-preservation, just to have something to break the nerve-wracking development.

After half an hour of exhausting my knowledge of marching songs, I found myself staring at a distant settlement in the horizon. If I was being honest, Oniyuri wasn't a place I knew much about, being that it was used as the battleground of RNJR + Qrow versus Tyrian.

Maybe I should have picked the known trail, risked encountering RNJR and... and then got shafted because Ozpin would be able to do something with that situation. The fear of getting caught, of being forced to do the most heinous thing, was unacceptable for my fervent sense of making things right by my own word.

No Gods. No Ozpin and no Salem. I wanted things to be whole once more. I wanted to make humanity survive the incoming storm and...

And I seriously wanted to destroy the silly mentality that those Dumbledore-lookalikes are the only ones capable of subverting the chess board to their advantage.

No more chess for y'all. Play some fun checkers without using your tactics on real people.

I had avoided all contact with the inhabitants of the village I woke up in and I was thankful that I spared the smallest of glances to memorize their features. Just a reminder, I repeated within my mind as I continued to ignore the ranting of the manipulator within my skull, to remember that I was in the right, that I had a lone duty for those people.

No one above my head or station telling me what to do. Just poor, little me and my idea of salvation. Was I being egocentric? Just a little, but who isn't in this story?

Who is really the protagonist here? Ruby? Jaune? ZWEI?!

Actually, speaking of protag-related issues, it was genuinely unnerving how the path I had taken had been lacking any sort of... monstrous obstacles. Maybe it was because I was walking in an open field, a place where ambushes were pretty much useless for simple-minded creatures like the Grimm or maybe...

Maybe Salem was playing her strategies like chess too. It would explain how and why only a few zones were considered dangerous and why those were places with a high number of hunters. Like Huntsmen Academies.

That would explain the Emerald Forest but... meh. There was too little to truly say what was the cause of the quite uneventful trip and frankly, I loved being this lucky once in a while and I didn't want to jinx myself.

Speaking of deserted places, Oniyuri looked every bit like a real ghost town. No Grimm, no humans and I hardly doubt there were any bandits hanging around for some looting. As I entered the place, I could feel the absurdity of my current predicament sinking in my brain.

I could try to raid this kind of places being that I was quite alone and far too weak compared to a larger number of battle-hardened criminals to be considered worth of notice.

Plus I was quite sure that the reason Salem knew where Ozzie was it was mostly thanks to his open contact with Lionheart.

Without that, my current whereabouts were effectively unknown to the Witch and her clique. Bad thing was that I was effectively deprived of any way of communicating with people without getting noticed by her. So I was pretty much stuck in forced isolation for the sake of survival.

What a good way to die...

Yet my overly-positive thoughts were instantly crushed the moment I reached a large, warehouse-like building and opened it.

...

...

I walked by one of the seemingly infinite crates filling the storage space of this place and blinked numbly at the words written on the visible tag: ”7.62mm.”

Did I just stumbled into heaven?

I mean, I couldn't see any junkfood around but... I could live with the steaks preserved in simple plastic bags and the water bottles inside some of the boxes.

Part of me questioned the possibility of ditching my mission to 'save the world' and just settle there until I had the resources to survive.

I could live off of what was here, even start some small plantation of tomatoes and apples with the more than enough seeds in the warehouse. But then I would be too entrenched to escape a surprise assault from Salem.

The woman, while unaware of my current whereabouts, was still capable of launching a full scouting operation with Nevermores and landed Grimm to search through Mistral. It was best for me to leave the place as fast as possible... but I would have to also ditch the delightful things there.

It was in that moment that I felt an annoying sparkle coming from the window reach my eyes. I turned to see the cause of this unholy and unneeded sight and... it was there.

It was a truck, nothing particularly recognizable from back home but it had the form only a truck could have. Some bits were rusty but... it seemed to be still in working order.

Wasting no time, I went outside to see if it had fuel and... it was ready to go. The fuel tank was full and it seemed that nothing had ruined the highly-flammable liquid.

Before trying to do anything, I gave a quick look around the proximity of the warehouse, the sudden suspicion that someone could still be around and could be waiting to ambush me quite the ugly theory created by my paranoia.

My mood improved even more as I found the trailer empty and ready to be filled with what I needed for my little trip to escape Mistral.

Rolling up my sleeves, I went back inside the warehouse and started to push the first box outside. My new plan was to get the heck away from that place with the crates in tow.

It took me around four hours of strong moving to get every single box inside the truck, taking few breaks along the way as my body was unfit for that kind of workout. Sitting in the driver's seat, I turned on the vehicle and I was delighted by sound of the engine showing life.

A smile finally crept out of my depression-induced shield as the engine didn't fuss too much and was purring. It would seem that today was my lucky day!

As I moved out of the small alley, I steered myself towards the main road that led towards the southern end of the settlement, ready to properly start my jolly trip across Mistral and into Vale while hoping to not run into those I was actively trying to avoid.

But seriously, how should I have known that I had two intruders aboard at the time!?

AN

This is important as it will underline the tones of this story. While Ozpin is lurking within my mind and I woke up in Mistral...the 'when' is NOT the one everyone thinks it is. Expect some early angst, an incredible show of camping skills and life-long path for a different story.

Still! The bets for who is hiding in the truck are on! Who will make the right guess?

Diary of a Straight Dude is going to be continued but... this story will serve to show something else. The reason that story was created was because of my inner need to explain the crappiness of a story with quick pairings, lacking explanations about their existance.

This one? This is going to be the real deal: crude and pretty!

Lastly, this protagonist is ME! Finally the author is thrown in the fray to deal with the madness of true SI. Reasons behind my attitude will be given along the way and.. I will not answer any question about it. It's already planned to be given in the form of chapter so... meh.

P.S. I admit there is somekind of inspiration from Coeur Al'aran 'Relic of the Future', but I am not copying from it. Quite the opposite if I have to be honest and... next chapter will shed some light around my mysterious tones. (I know, cliffhangers are bad and I hate leaving cliffhangers, but it will be a fun ride!)

EDIT: This chapter has been Beta-Readed by: Goose!

Chapter 2

”Every day above ground is a good day.” – Tony Montana

It's been several hours since I left Oniyuri and the muddy trail I was driving through was starting to get annoying-

*Bump*

I scowled as the truck found another hole in the ground, my nerves unwilling to let go of that forebonding sense of dread that was starting to be noticeably influencing my features.

The sky had started to darken up and the lack of a proper illumination along the path was adding up with my already rusty driving skills.

Sure, I knew how to properly drive old stuff with manual gearboxes but my capacity lied only on normal cars as I have never needed to use a truck in my life.

Uneasiness about possible major differences between the two kinds of vehicles slowly unraveled the moment I found no particular issue with my current disposition.

Now that I was driving straight lines and not trying to turn crazy corners I was fine, but I was starting to get annoyed the barely visible track.

The headlights gave me a limited glimpse of the road ahead but I was worried of ending up to attract Grimm with my ever-growing distress.

*Bump*

I scowled again, this time barely caring for the umpteenth hole trying to bruise the tires but thankfully failing to accomplish that. My attention moved to the small radio device built-in the truck.

It was curiosity that urged me to see what kind of programs were in Remnant and to see how the world was faring with Beacon's fall.

So I turned it on and-

”Mistral Grand Museum opens a new gallery for the 'Kestrel Renaissance' this Tuesday-”