Everything is up in smoke and ash, the pillar of brilliant light passing through the thick blanket of crimson clouds, two people standing there one smaller than the other.
the two silhouettes facing the pillar but one is in front of the other.
"to be honest I'm surprised" said the female voice with little to no fervor laced in their voice but dull genuine surprise.
Yet the person behind her didn't seem to register what she said or ignored her words completely, for they didn't speak the only confirmation that someone's there is them heaving trying to catch their breath.
The silhouette turned to face the other, seeing the one to call the end of all that is known, Salem— this should be her but why does she seem off?
"Salem?" The man questioned what he was seeing. It looked like Salem but the way she carried herself seemed off different.
The calm and collected queen of Grimm, the enemy of humanity's existence that lies in the veil behind the shadows where no one seems to know what happens behind the scenes.
Now they stand in front of her, with only a uberti hardin revolver in hand.
This gun, this small item by itself can never do anything but be close and personal where they can no longer push what they deny, where we become it and he becomes they.
"Oh it seems you still hold Watts' gun though it seems modified,l is it your work or the silver eyed girl?"
the woman asked but not entirely caring for such a niche answer she could guess but now she didn't care for the simple wish she has forever desired is within her grasp.
The man dressed with a white vest unclasped and open, with a navy blue long sleeved shirt, black jean pants, customized military boots and has on the atlas military coat but it looks a bit small on him, just barely above knees with the only part buttoned is the collar but it was actually a deep red brooch holding it down.
Something glimmered on the man catching her attention. Around his neck, dangling was a necklace that was the shape of a red apple with cracks on it but she could have sworn that the necklace faintly gleamed. Her Curiosity grew, The brooch isn't needed a simple button can be used and it seemed like the brooch looked old but gently taken care of the atlas military coat seeming a little small on him for it barely reaches to his knees and barely making it to his wrist he could have changed his outfit replace it simply. An item seems out of place because it is a broken pocket watch.
Also wearing a silver watch on his right wrist the hands of the of the watch stuck on the time 10:01 pm
But seeing these items it clicked.
"Oh you still hold on to your little trinkets of the dead ridden-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
He spat out his words, laced in venom cutting off her sentence early before she could even finish her sentence.
She lightly glares at the boy in front of her, annoyance plastered on her features.
She then raised her hand with a purple black flame silently resting in her hands flickering but slowly dwindling.
The man raised the gun in his hands, black tactical gloves steadily aiming at the woman preparing for whatever she throws.
but it doesn't look like a spell , maybe something was tweaked during making it. Did she make a powerful variation of it or-?
As these thoughts pass through his mind, Salem let the orb of black flame into the pillar of light in the center of it but it was halted by a big white glyph the man had just made behind him as a sort of wall-magnet interfering with the process.
"You enriched fool, why do you still stand when I have already won, where you have already lost, hope died and i have won so stand down before you'll end up worse than the way watts had ended your blood line"
The Grimm queen voiced great irritation laced like poisonous honey.
"it only ends when the schnee sings and as you see i'm not singing"
The man standing the last man, the left hand of the general, alone he stands with uncertainty in front him in mass the pillar of light seeming more deceiving from afar.
The end is near for all that he knows for all that he has experienced from the fall of all four kingdoms to the rise of the final wall into losing his family, his mother, elder sisters, and the man he would call father in all but blood.
'What would they think if they saw me here? Would they worry, feel pride, anger'
A tear ran down his cheek at the thought of the family he had lost fear and doubt began creeping through his soul. Can he truly stand up to the immortal witch, can he gain victory from defeat, can he really be able to do something from nothing, despair followed like death every step feeling like it would shatter his heart, his resolve when nothing can be done.
His mind replays of everything lived through his family falling apart, his elder sister's going on different paths leaving him behind with HIM the only save and grace was the man that he saw as a father, would go out of his way to help him when all said to leave him be to his own devices.
His soul churned pain and despair mixing into pain impalpable to describe.
Only the words told to him of a man he saw as an older brother rose up to the forefront of his mind like a small whispers.
['I know anything I say won't ease your pain, only heighten it so I can only say keep living for them even a man who has nothing left to live can still find peace, don't let pain and hate delude you to a path that isn't yours or a decision that will make it worse for your soul to heal.']
['your heart will sometimes scream to fall to give up on something futile to r follow the hate that greatly burns to keep you living but your soul will whisper to rise above to not follow such emotions as is so which one shall you follow?']
['When you feel nothing changes make a different decision one that you wouldn't usually make.']
['Time is irrelevant when the end is beginning.']
So many words, some inspiring, others not making sense, going through them he couldn't help but let a small smile show, his sister was right he was a complete and utter dolt… but a reliable dolt nun the less.
With his heart bleeding he picks himself up and more words show once more and they help his heavy soul.
['When doubt and fear creep up to you don't let its lie stop you for if told nothing is passed them a miracle could lay, waiting for you']
His soul begins to steady.
['When all doubt you even yourself I will have faith in you Whitley']
His heart began to beat again.
['For when the light is a shard look up to the moon for-']
"There is honor in dismay"
A saying that the word the general would say in hard times under his breath or murmur which he heard a couple of times.
But yet it brought no assurance, only resolve.
Standing straighter, shoulders more relaxed he spoke once more with great fervour put behind it, unsheathing his saber from his scabbard while doing so.
"My name is Whitley Schnee you killed my mother prepare to die"
Throwing his scabbard to the side no longer needing it.
"You are an utter fool if you believe that you can change the final results." The grimm queen said in a cold tone.
"I am Whitly Schnee, you killed my sisters prepared to die!"
Whitley heard, yet he did not care, repeating his words now for his sisters, pointing the saber at the grimm queen, his left arm outstretched, him going into a stance lowering his chest slightly putting his right hand behind his back, and knees bending in a one hundred degree angle, one foot more in front of the other.
Eyes with cold concentrated resolve behind his burning fumed features.
Now the Queen of shadows is irked by this meager child not listening to her that she had won but he simply keeps denying what has already been written.
She sent a wave of flames his way he made a second Glyph in front of him sending a wave of glacier's, ice hitting flames making an enormous reaction into an explosion pushing them away from the strong wind pressure.
Leaving a medium sized crater behind where they both stood.
The smoke cloud surrounded the battlefield and neither could see the other.
Whitley reclaimed his balance unsheathing his saber from the earth's template, where both function and design draw.
And she stands with ice shards embedded into her ghoulish pale skin, the shards of ice embedded thin streaks of inky black blood running down the dead immortal's skin she stares down unflinchingly, uncaring what physical damage she attained.
But as oil can contaminate clear water, the icicles began to darken Within her skin where her blood began to corrode the floor with ice infused dust, becoming into small particles being absorbed into her body.
He sees in shock, a sense of inadequacy flows through his blood.
He knows this is an uphill battle one that he will have great difficulty with.
But Can he win? Can he somehow be able to defeat an immortal Who knows countless myriads of tactics.
The feeling of inadequacy begins to build in his stomach a burning sensation in the back of his neck rises without warning.
"Blech!"
the burning acid leaving both stomach and passing the diaphragm he could only cough out what has been once his food but the supposed to be yellowish liquid, looks like liquid crushed coffee grounds.
He's bleeding, yeah easily noticeable on his outward appearance no genius needed, but his innards are more injured than he initially perceived.
He's losing precious time; he knows this, she does too.
The ground tremors, uncontrollable, violent.
He looks at her, purple, black, and gray particles surrounding her person then a piece of ground, where she stands cracked, as more cracks appeared and went around her, began to float higher and higher in the air.
Getting farther and more impossible to reach from where he stands.
He…he can't do this.
Why does he have to be the one standing here, why couldn't it have been Winter, Weiss, Ruby or even Jaune so why does he get to be able to walk while others need to desperately crawl, why does he need to be alone for such a task.
He can't do this alone he's injured and barely able use his semblence, reducing into nothing, and now on his knees.
What use can he do he was never a fighter like the others but dammit he wants to fight to stop this insane witch, but what can he do.
Salem sees the boy beginning to realise the difference between the two, it's not a small gap but a larger than any chasm and taller than any mountain.
She revels in her now known established victory she will gain from this spell that her mast - she, that she has been working forth.
The Relics.
Items from the brother gods themselves, great infinite, unimaginable power that she now can attain.
All For Her to have.
With then the glyph holding back the black purple flame from moving into the pillar, dispersed.
She could only feel pure elation creep from the shallow depths of her decrepit soul.
A sadistic smile gracing her lips reaching ear to ear.
nothing else is in her way. finally after all this time the people she put down.
All those who looked down on her now their lives snuffed out like flames to ash.
It has never felt more eloquent than anything she has experienced.
But then-
CRK-SKUNCH
A sound of something akin to bones cracking quickly followed with a sound of wet slop being squished.
She opened her mouth to scream but no air of her screams flowed through, only flames followed.
protruding out her mouth and eyes begin to melt from her skull. Flames grew painfully slowly, consuming from within her skin popping feeling the pain within her as she is being repeatedly healed and Burned.
The consuming pain, the burning.
Yet within the painful madness she felt the difference of the fire it isn't like the flames from Dust no they hold a sort of neutrality within then when she absorbs them, she will always feel it in the.
She understands now, this flame that doesn't need the wind to keep burning, that can't be doused, smothered or put out, nothing will extinguish this flame.
For a moment for a split second when she turned her head and saw Whitley the look on him of great fury was not just that, for what she saw shocked her greatly.
His saber stabbing her from the back with the flames furiously engulfing glow but it was his sword alone.
He stands alone on the ground
his military coat, the left sleeve ripped to tatters all the way up to his shoulder, on his arm glyphs embedded into his skin.
were these glyphs prepared before their fight before their encounter.
Yet her Eyes widened in recognition, she understands now.
But how is it possible that he can use magic?
How can it be that he can use magic the only way that anyone can use or have access to magic would be if he were born with a sort of thread to be able to use magic. But that can't be possible. All people who could access it went extinct, the brothers made sure of that.
The other way would be the power of the maidens but it will only pass to women that too is out because she attained all maiden powers two years ago.
only Salem and… Ozpin.
He has something to do with this she knows it she doesn't know how but he did something.
Whitley with a great burning sensation passing through his arm he feels the power that is flowing through him painful but real.
'Ozpin was right, this is too much for me, but I can't fall here, not after everything I lost to get here. I can't–no I won't give into despair so easily, not again, no more will I deceive myself to such pretences any more!'
The words of a man he respects and admires, his mind in the fourth of his minds calls to him words he is always told but would usually ignore and push it away for they felt like empty husks.
['Giving up is easy, fighting is painful, so keep fighting to remember what we lost to make sure we don't forget them, to not lose them again']
The words soaked in blood flow through his own boiling, into his heart, lighting the soul once more.
"Bleed"
He could only utter in a pain strained voice, the glyphs on his arm glowing brighter.
Then he runs towards her getting up to her step after step supported by his glyphs.
The saber had stopped spewing flames, it ran out of fire dust.
She began to heal again, her voice sounding hoarse and strained wanting to speak her thoughts, the only thing that could escape from her charded throat was a painful high pitched screech.
She stands once more.
Whitley then shoulder tackles her, gasping for air on two sets of platforms each their own but each their level.
Whitley on his glyph and Salem on solid air.
The pillar of light grows larger in length, unstable it starts to attract the soil with a rigorous force, only the air under them sails through their sails of clothing violently.
"So you say you will kill me, so tell me fool how do you plan to kill a god!"
Said Salem as she took out the blade from her abdomen, the blade now soaked in her tar colored blood.
He raised up his left arm. The blade glows a brilliant white blue peaking through the void ridden liquid.
"!?"
Salem was shocked at what was happening. Her blood corrodes any and can absorb all things magic or dust related that get into contact with it but yet why isn't it being taken?
"Hehhehehehe! hahahahahahah!"
From her stupor she was taken, for a loud mirthful laugh on the boundary of madness laced on its edges.
Loud and abundant one, once filled with acknowledgment of nothing, now realized in truth not in despair but just simple realization.
"You can't take something that doesn't belong to you, you were able to once upon a time, but it seem like you can't do that anymore"
Salem, annoyed, raised her hands to him, firing multiple darkened elements wildly, each shot powered by her own.
Whitley retaliates dodging or ricocheting back some of the spells back to her Hitting her she heals back up.
But what he noticed as the fight kept going is she kept getting more frantic with the spells as time kept going and the way she moves like she's still getting used to something new.
something she doesn't know how to properly use to its fullest potential.
Contorting within his skin the glyph's glow dim's not for using up his magic no, but because he was becoming incompatible how or why he doesn't know.
Anything related to magic he doesn't get but what if ?
He makes a small glyph in his right eye.
"aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!"
In an instant a burning-shock mix, sensation passes through his right eye, unfiltered amount of information passes through his eye and forces itself into the subconscious depth of his mind. Like an ocean wanting to fit in a single small cup.
For all he sees is nothing not blank cleanliness nor shattering dark.
But nothing in its truest sense for even calling it the abyss is simple flattery.
It doesn't show, but sees, doesn't acknowledge, but understands doesn't speak, but commands,
For the abyss is still a shape, a form, an idea. It is a chasm we imagine, a depth we can fear.
But He—He sees not blankness, nor shattered dark, nor a clean void where things might be reborn.
What He sees is nothing.
Not silence, but absence of even silence. Not emptiness, but the unmaking of space that could be empty.
He does not show, but He sees.
He does not acknowledge, but He understands.
He does not speak—
—but still, all things obey.
To name Him is to pretend He may be known. To fear Him is to imagine He may notice. He does neither.
Yet a shift happens, he doesn't see it, nor hear it, not even feel it but his soul screams as if noticed by something utterly horrid.
Feeling like he is seen, not noticed, nor acknowledged.
And just as the searing pain was instant to its processors. So too was the vision or what Whitley would acclaim was one he couldn't see. but all the same his soul imprinted, held of what true fear was in its entirety.
Vision of his surroundings reformed on the battlefield with a slight blurriness to them.
One side of his face felt wet rolling down his cheek.
He checks with his right hands then putting his hand in front of him he sees blood but that when he noticed he can only see from his left eye now
Salem seeing him in a distorted state she gleefully smirks maliciously
Salem hissed something changing her blood, it's not different from what It did originally to dilute and absorb what lives.
But now she is beginning to feel her blood take from her.
"Aaaaaah! What did you do!?"
She screamed at him demanding him to answer what he had done.
Pain, only word can describe this torture.
Something writhes underneath her skin wriggles, something alive and it wants out.
Going around her body expanding, engorging she feels it moving within her. Under her skin, being hyper sensitive to the feeling of blood rushing, her blood through the body along with the thing that writhes along with it.
She can only scream in unbridled agony only able to scratch her skin clean to where the pathetic parasite lay under her skin.
Whitley takes this opening to reclaim his saber.
With no time to wonder what is happening to the darken Queen he runs towards her weapons at the ready as uses his glyph, making multiple replicas of weapons instead of looking like it was made of crystal glass.
He then points his uberti hardin revolver he named Schnee Echo he quickly aims and pulls the trigger three times.
Even in the inexcusable amount of pain that she's in, Salem uses gravity magic seeing the boy using his gun and other magical constructs with him aimed at her.
One arm raised, purple waves shot the ground being pulled by the magic.
The bullets tore through the air. But not enough to get through magic, least of all, what brings orbit into focus, in matters its fundamentals, not one bullet connects; they were sent to various directions.
She knows this for she felt bullets redirected away from her.
The pain grew grotesque. She felt this body begin whittle into something that should never reach something tells her to stop this, the pain is too much.
"No"
"I made it too far to let this slip my hands, i won't fail this time, im at the brink in becoming beyond divine where the brothers shall fear me, where reality shall bow to me I shall be….a GOD"
It's official to Whitley th—
Bang!
Bang!
Pushing these thoughts away, it doesn't matter shooting and sending the weapons to Salem.
To counter she uses light magic to encompass her; she made it as strong as steel for none to pass by.
Yet.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
Her body, the pain betrays her, not
able to hold the spell up any longer, her focus fleeting cracks begin appearing.
'No!'
'Now,'
two shoots rang out hitting the breaking down shield.
Cracks spreading around the violet dark orb made of hardened light..
Taking chances on the weakened defense, all weapons at once attack.
Salem pushed, baffled at where this strength came from. How is he doing such a thing, his aura was low, his use of magic, wasting away magic but yet he is still able to use magic and semblence even when he should be out of it, how is it possible?