My first real challenge was a Nevermore. A massive, dragon-sized Nevermore that could shoot feathers the size of humans like missiles.
I found it minding its own business, chilling at the bottom of a ravine and figured, hey, a perfect target!
So I jumped off a cliff and used the increased momentum to charge-punch it in the head as hard as I could. The resulting shockwave nearly liquidated my arm, but did absolutely nothing to the giant bird. It did, however, force it to take to the skies with me clinging to the top.
"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" I slammed my fists into either one of its eyes, my thighs clenched down on its forehead feathers to keep me stable. The big fuckass bird started bucking and twirling in the air to get me off, nearly flinging me into the horizon. "WHY! WON'T! YOU! DIE!"
I was putting all my weight into my punches and it was doing nothing. What kinda Final Boss couldn't kill a fucking bird?!
No, there had to be something I was missing, a weak point I could exploit! The eyes weren't it — the damn thing kept regenerating them after I reduced them to mush — so I had to find a more lethal place to hit. Some part of the body with more sensitive weak points, that was harder to regenerate —
Wait.
I dug my hands into its feathers and shuffled forward, crawling alongside its massive head and down its face. It was screeching, flailing, raking its claws against its head to get me off. One of them scraped by me, taking off one of my legs and digging deep into my back. I ended up having to waste a charge to form a brief divot in its feathers so I could dig myself into place.
With my free hand I reached into my satchel and took out some faintly glowing, blue orbs. I had a lot from all the Grimm I killed, more than enough to heal myself and have a few left over for my plan — but not as much as my gamer brain wanted. I'd have to make sure to get some sort of inventory power once this was over.
I crushed them in my palm and felt my wounds and leg start regenerating. It took a few more handfuls to get me up to full health; in that time the giant Nevermore started slamming its body against the cliff face to throw me off. I had to be quick.
Bit by bit, charge by charge, orb by orb, I slowly inched by way across its face, down its beak — until I slipped inside its mouth.
The resulting screech would've blown me out if I hadn't used a charge in time to dig my way into its tongue. It did, however, blow out my eardrums, rendering me entirely deaf. As if to make things worse, I felt the bird's saliva coating every inch of my body. A faint sizzling sensation erupted from my skin; I knew it would only be a matter of time before my skin and bones started melting.
But none of that mattered so long as I had some healing orbs! Granted, it was hard as fuck to manuver my way through my satchel with the Nevermore screaming and its tongue flicking. But with enough effort I was able to make my way through its mouth and down its throat, where I was met with —
Infinite weak spots!
I crushed a few more orbs to keep my body stable, accidentally using some of the green ones —
Oh?
I felt my [Charge Attack] immediately recharge. No cooldown, just immediate power in my fists. I took another green orb and felt the exact same thing.
Deep within the Nevermore's throat, surrounded on all sides by squeezing flesh and acid saliva, I felt a grin stretch across my face. A grin unbefitting of Salem's character — but more than fitting for a Final Boss.
I charged up my fist and slammed it into the squishy insides of its throat. Unlike with its outer body my fist sank into the Nevermore's flesh like a hot knife through butter, blowing a sizeable chunk into its inner meat and completely soaking me in its blood. Steam filled my vision as the blood evaporated, blinding me entirely as I felt myself slip farther down its esophagus. The flesh around me contracted, squeezing and releasing at a frantic pace as the Nevermore tried to either hack me up or swallow me down.
I immediately crushed a green orb with my free hand. I felt power flow through my fists again before I slammed it into the same spot. Another explosion of blood, more vibrations, and a throbbing sensation in my newly shattered eardrums as the Nevermore shrieked in pain.
Over and over and over I went, blowing through a satchel full of orbs to heal and charge myself up, hammering away at the Grimm's insides until —
*BOOOOM*
The impact felt as though it shattered every bone in my body. It was so sudden and absolute that I couldn't even brace myself or use a charge. I was paralyzed by vibrations so strong that it was all I could do to think, let alone move.
And then, motion. It was like I was in a dryer; everything twisted, turned, and toppled over itself, flesh and bone and Grimm gas flitting in and out of my vision even as my body was carried away with the motions, violently thrown in all directions. Fading flesh and bone pressed down on my body, caging me in a coffin made of Grimm — until I felt cold air against my skin, wind whipping through my hair, the sensation of my body falling from a great height.
*SPLASH*
I fell into a pool of sludge. Heavy, suffocating sludge that sparked a reaction in Salem's memories.
Feelings of hopelessness, despair, regret, anger, hatred at the waste of it all, at her failure, at the sight of the Gods escaping to the Heavens while she was left alone in Hell.
Painful emotions reduced to a gnawing emptiness by centuries of loneliness and boredom, manifesting as an all encompassing need to end it all.
A last ditch effort that only extended her madness and turned her into something unholy.
I felt the Pool of Darkness's liquid enter my wounds. Immediately, I felt my body start to repair itself — and at a rapid pace too! Within seconds my bones were unbroken, my limbs were regenerated, and I could actually see again. Swimming out of the pool was a challenge — I fell really deep — but eventually I popped my head out.
A good two to three hundred meters away was the fading body of the Nevermore, partially embedded in a cliff face. A good portion of its feathers lay scattered around it, impaling Grimm that were unfortunate enough to be within range. Its head was only a few meters away from where I was swimming, giving me a pretty good look at its neck, which was a mess of torn flesh and broken bone. Like someone had taken a hook to its throat and violently ripped chunks out before leaving it to die in agony. Essentially, I decapitated it from the inside.
But the most important part was the health and energy orbs. There had to be hundreds of them; the ground was practically coated in a layer of green and blue. There was no way my satchel would fit them all — assuming my satchel survived the fight — but I'll be damned if I let my hard earned loot go to waste!
All in all?
"That —" I coughed out some sludge. "That was awesome!"
Gained 100 CP!
Fuck yeah!
I immediately spent all of it.
Domain
-100 CP
[INVENTORY]
Small Pocket Dimension (Domain) [100]: You have a pocket dimension (also known as imaginary space) in the form of an object of your design. This object can be anything, but it serves as the physical anchor of a pocket dimension where the concept of space and time does not exist. This essentially allows you access to a limitless storage space where you can store anything that is not currently alive, and it would be preserved perfectly forever, until it is taken out of the storage space.
Underneath my gloves a ring settled itself on my pointer finger.
I considered all sorts of designs — living eyeballs, glowing demonic sigils, pulsating veins, spikes that dug into the skin — but figured I needed something that wasn't obviously evil and Final Boss-ish.
Because think about it — you defeat the Final Boss, they die, drop a ring, and it looks evil and demonic as fuck. Realistically, would you put it on?
Of course not, that'd be a good way to have the Final Boss take over your body!
So if I was gonna carry around a ring that would be the source of one of my powers, I needed it to look halfway decent. The last thing I wanted was for the heroes to throw away their hard earned loot!
So in the end I created a ring of soft, glowing light. It would stick out against my skin and somewhat clash against my evil aesthetic, but it would also act as a sort of beacon for the heroes and kinda give off that "this doesn't belong to her" feel. You know, like I stole it or something.
Hmm. Should I give it a backstory? Like I took it off the body of a famous warrior or it was granted to me by the king of a fallen kingdom — something like that. I'd have to hash it out later.
In the meantime, I felt another empty space open up in my brain. I could choose another free perk again!
Let's see… As much as I loved my [Charge Attack] I was gonna need something more than that. The fight with the Nevermore was a lot closer than I would've liked — too close for a Final Boss! More attack power was necessary!
So —
Destruction
0 CP
[ATTACK]
Divine Punishment… Kinda (Destruction) [0]: You get the ability to chuck a chair at a person from the literal throne of god in heaven. This means that from the target's perspective a chair will just appear and hit them squarely in the head. This will always hurt, never kill and be hilarious every time.
"...alright. That's pretty fucking funny, but not exactly what I needed." The last of the orbs was sucked into my ring, granting me a whopping 200+ green orbs and 300+ blue. "I guess that's all you can expect from a free perk."
Whatever, I'd make it work! If My Hero Academia taught me anything it was that there's no such thing as a weak superpower, just users unwilling to use it to its max potential!
"Maybe if I —" I boosted my Divine Chair Attack with [Charge Attack] and aimed it at a nearby Beowolf. True to the perk's description it didn't kill it — but it did pulverize its lower half to paste and make me laugh.
Also, free chair! It wasn't anything special, just a standard looking wooden chair — but it was free! And free stuff was always good stuff.
Maybe if I summoned enough chairs I could somehow create a furniture business? Some testing showed that I could only summon one at a time even when I took the green orbs. But there wasn't a cooldown like with [Charge Attack], so theoretically I could just keep summoning them until I had enough to sell. It wasn't the most epic of abilities, sure, but a Final Boss needed to have a source of income. Because who ever heard of a broke Final Boss?
"I wonder how taxes work on Remnant…"
—--------------------------------
With my new sonic chair throwing technique and my inventory full of health/mana potions, battles with Grimm became much easier.
They weren't a total cake walk — I still had a lot of trouble with groups and the bigger ones — but I was able to hold my own a lot better than before. I even managed to order some of the Grimm around! Granted they were the tiny, baby ones — but under my guidance and tactical leadership they served as wonderful distractions/meat shields!
And as if to reward my efforts, I gained another 200 CP. I decided on banking it for now, since I wanted to get a feel for my new abilities before getting more. It'd also be the perfect trump card in case one of my soon-to-be monster minions decided to try their luck against their Final Boss.
But after several weeks of traveling, killing, and sightseeing through the Land of Darkness, I became aware of a crucial fact:
Despite being a Grimm infested hellscape that was once home to an angry God — it was ultimately a fucking boring place to live.
Why? Because aside from the danger it had nothing else going for it. It was an entire continent that only had one look and nothing else.
An eternally black sky, red clouds that barely moved, rock formations, rock ground, black crystals, pools of darkness, and Grimm. There was no variation in landscape, no unique biomes, no forests, no mountains, no rivers, no animals, no unique fauna — and according to Salem's memories there wasn't even a change in seasons. Just miles upon miles upon miles of the same damn thing, set to the same chilly temperature, with not even a hint of change.
Boring.
"Yeah, I should definitely get a landscaping power." I charged up my divine chair and aimed directly at a Beowolf's chest. Not the head, because more often than not it'd be too lethal and wouldn't work. "The current black and red aesthetic is great — matches my whole theme — but dude, there has to be something new to it. Like, if this world was a game this would be a slog of a world map. Kinda like the Nether before all the updates."
The only exciting part about the place was the Grimm. The farther I got, the bigger, badder, and more exotic they became.
You had your killer wolves, bears, birds, and boars. A challenge in high numbers, but nothing a couple of punches can't handle.
Centipedes, jelly fish, horses, and sharks were also a thing, but no weirder than the previous ones. They were harder to kill and had some more blatant superpowers, but nothing I couldn't handle after a bit of maneuvering and strategy.
But then ghosts, tentacle monsters, flying orbs, and actual fucking zombies were on that list — and I realized that I was definitely gonna have to get some more powerful abilities if I wanted to go full Doom Slayer.
I also realized that the Grimm weren't just limited to real-life animals. They could be anything and everything — which gave me a lot of ideas.
"Maybe I could have plant Grimm? Or water Grimm? Or — ooh! Mimic Grimm! Mimic Grimm that turns into treasure chests or supplies or dead bodies and chomps down on people when they get too close!"
A pair of Ursas, not happy about me killing one of their friends, started attacking. I was getting better at fending them off all at once, though killing them one by one took waaaaaay too long. A true Final Boss should be able to kill hundreds of enemies in a single attack!
"Parasitic Grimm would be fun! A Grimm that burrows its way into your spine and puppets your body, forcing you to attack your teammates. Or a Grimm that feeds off Aura and blood to sustain itself before erupting from the victim's chest like a chestburster. Or maybe something like The Thing where —"
I stopped. Stared. "What the fuck?"
The sky was dark and the clouds were red. Other than the shattered moon there was no other source of color within these lands. So why was something blue falling from the sky? And at a rapid pace too —
*BOOOOOM*
The ground shook. A wave of debris and flame clouded my vision, forcing me to squint through the flickering light. When it dispersed I found myself looking at an airship — no, what was left of an airship. It was almost entirely crumpled into a ball, with pieces of it scattered all around the impact site. The front looked as though it exploded from the impact and the cockpit was almost entirely peeled open, exposing the controls to open air. The back was riddled with claw and bite marks, some almost as big as I was, and was actively on fire.
The air was filled with the scent of metal, Combustion Dust, fire, smoke — and blood. So much blood that it made my mouth water. I found myself walking towards the wreckage before I realized it, an oddly compelling hunger filling my senses.
Once upon a time the beings in the airship were people. Now they were nothing more than sacks of meat covered in ripped up clothing. There were no faces because they either lost their heads entirely, had them squished to mush, or had their features scrapped off. Their bodies were lucky to be intact and even luckier to be identifiable, since everything was so mixed up and mashed together that it was more like I was looking at a particularly rare soup than a bunch of corpses.
Only one corpse survived intact. A young man, human, looked between late teens or early twenties, muscular, with numerous stab scars on his skin. Shards of Dust Crystals were impaled in his chest and shoulders, looking as though they had partially fused with his skin. Around his neck was a set of dog tags that read:
"Hazel Rainart," I read. "Return to Gretchen Rainart if lost. Needs 1 Dust Crystal a day to eat. Wow, you really must've over ate —"
"...cough…"
"Oh shit, you're alive?! Er, I mean." I straightened my back. Someone who could witness my Final Boss performance! I couldn't fuck this up! "Oh? To live after such a terrible tragedy. How… fortunate."
The guy just moaned and twitched which, rude. It took me a long time to get the tone and body language right.
I slapped him a few times but he didn't wake up. Not even when I fed him some blue orbs; it just healed his wounds and ejected the Dust Crystals from his body. Feeding him the green ones made some brown static — his Aura according to Salem's memories — flicker across his body, but that was it. The guy was out cold.
"Now the question is," I dragged him out of the wreckage and carefully laid him out on the ground, "are you a hero or a minion? Or are you one of those side characters that die and leave a bunch of notes around for the heroes to find?"
The man didn't answer. That was fine. I'd figure it out soon enough.
But first? Time to loot the airship!
It was a cacophony of noise.
"We're approaching the ground at a rapid pace! Two minutes before we hit!"
"There's a hole in the side of the — !"
"I'm not gonna let some maniac get us killed!"
"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God —"
"Pull up! PULL UP!"
"It's coming from the side! Turn left!"
"I don't wanna die! Not like —"
Sounds mixed together in a meaningless blob of sound.
*BOOM*
"The engines —!"
"We're getting pulled out! Just hold on!"
"Get that maniac out of the way!"
*SCREEEEECH*
"AUUUUGH!"
"IT'S GETTING IN!"
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"
"HELP ME! SOMEONE, ANYONE, HE—!"
He planted a peach tree for her.
"Where did you even get something like this?" she had asked, poking at the branches. "Did you import it? From Mistral?!"
He remembered he made some excuse. Tried to downplay it even though she could always see through him.
"You're impossible, Haz." Her hug felt strong. Her arms were like steel. He wouldn't win their arm wrestling matches anymore. "Thank you!"
He returned the hug. Tried to hide his unease. "I hope… you have fun. You'll be a great Huntress."
Impact.
His Aura shattered. The pain hit him all at once and
thought
became
impossible.
He knew she worked hard to get into Beacon. She trained in between jobs, on her days off, and cut off sleep to get a few extra hours in. She used her Semblance until her Aura shattered, pushed herself until her fists bled, and went so far as to travel outside the kingdom to hunt Grimm on her own. Her friends, her hobbies, even him — they all became secondary to getting into Beacon. To becoming a Huntress. To fulfilling the dreams he planted in her head.
"Someone's gotta do something, Haz."
She was soaked with sweat when he found her. Blood dripped from slack fingers, her voice faint with exhaustion — yet he could still hear the determination pushing through every word. He looked into her eyes and could only see steel; no trace of the soft girl she used to be. "I can't look away. Not when I know. Not when it could be someone else. It has to be me."
How long was his mind gone?
He didn't know.
But he felt himself wake to a haze of pain and darkness — and faint vibrations resonating through the ground.
Something was making its way towards him.
Grimm. Coming to finish him off.
He felt peace at the thought.
It was better this way.
She loved peaches. He hated them; couldn't stand the taste, the texture, the smell. But he removed his onion patch, uprooted most of his garden, and spent an absurd amount of money to import her a sapling.
Because he was proud. He was afraid, worried, suspicious, and scared — but more than anything he was so, so proud of her. For being brave. For being caring. For doing what needed to be done — not just for herself, but for everyone around her.
She was a hero straight out of a fairy tale. A warrior who stood up for what was right.
Even if it meant her death.
The Grimm disappeared.
Hazel felt — vibrations. Faint vibrations through the ground that his senses — honed from trying to tran his Aura — translated for him.
A person. Coming directly towards him.
A member of the crew? They must be coming to finish him off.
That was fine. He knew he deserved it.
Hazel awaited his death.
Years passed and the sapling grew. There were no peaches; it usually took two to four years for a peach tree to fully grow, and another four to six months to be edible. She used to joke that she'd only get to eat them once she became a fully fledged Huntress.
"A boring graduation present," she'd say. "Just get me a card, Haz!"
She never meant it. She'd secretly smile at the sapling when he wasn't looking, lightly hopping in place like she always did when she was excited. Counting down the days until she could finally use her gift.
Gretchen loved peaches. They were her favorite food ever since they were kids. She'd eat them everyday if she could help it.
But the day he planted that sapling, she stopped eating them.
"I don't wanna spoil my appetite. I know your peaches will taste the best." There was no doubt in her eyes. Just trust and faith.
Looking back, that was the worst part.
Hands on his body.
The words were distant, yet understandable.
"Hazel Rainart. Return to Gretchen Rainart if lost. Needs 1 Dust Crystal a day to eat."
How unexpected it must've been, in her final moments.
All her plans, her goals, her dreams — dust in the wind. Gone before she could taste peaches again.
An accident, they called it.
A shame, they called it.
Unfortunate, they called it.
As though it were normal. As though her life meant nothing. As though his soul wasn't tearing apart at the realization that she was gone.
The funeral… it was a blur of color, sensations, and overwhelming emotions. He could barely remember what happened, except for one thing.
Him.
He shouldn't have been there.
Had Hazel been a good brother he would have ensured that he never knew of the funeral, let alone approached her grave. But he was too busy wasting away in front of the peach tree to do his due diligence. He failed her again and this was the result: a sick parody of a man laying a basket of peaches on her grave. Face set in an expression of sadness so ungenuine, so colossally fake that it made him want to scream.
Hazel was a fool.
A fool who allowed a snake to get near the one thing that mattered most.
He should have known what he was the moment he started whispering into her ears. That determination, that steel he saw within her — it was all him. Manipulating her into giving up her life all so that he could replace her once she broke.
Hazel laid her broken body under the peach tree and he — he was choosing a new batch of pawns. Ignorant, naive children, just like she was.
He whispered words of heroism and glory into their ears, filled their minds with dreams that could never be, and sat back as they dug their own graves for the sake of a war they knew nothing about. Dying for a goal they would never see come true.
It has happened. It would happen. It would continue to happen, for as long as he existed. Hundreds of thousands of children like his sister, dying for the sake of a man who couldn't fight his own battles.
Unfair.
Disgusting.
Evil.
Death was impossible for a man like him. Whatever God or Devil blessed him did so in such a way that killing him would be pointless.
It was knowledge that burned. A part of Hazel's soul was gone — and the man responsible would never face punishment. Hazel could kill his vessel, but it would never kill his soul. He would still live, one way or another.
But there was something out there that wasn't as unkillable. A creature that was just as responsible for Gretchen's death as Ozpin was.
A creature that — according to his sister — was behind every Grimm, every conflict, every bad thing that had ever happened in Remnant. A creature so vile, so clever, so powerful that it managed to evade the grasp of an immortal being for thousands of years.
A creature who killed his sister.
Even if it meant his death, he would track down the creature that took his sister away from him. This he swore underneath the peach tree where his sister laid.
It took years.
Years of training, of gathering funds, of finding someone stupid enough to fly him into Hell itself. Roadblock after roadblock, obstacle after obstacle got in his way and eventually he had to ask himself:
What was more important? Living up to Gretchen's ideals? Or avenging her spirit?
And for him the answer was obvious.
He took a Schnee transport ship hostage. Threatened to kill them, kill their friends, their families, everyone and anyone they had ever met. He listed names, spoke about private information, named addresses, made the most disgusting and vile threats he could about the people they cared about. He let innocent blood wet his hands and allowed every ounce of anger and madness show on his face as he told them to fly.
And they flew.
The Grimm was the end for them all. He knew that there would be a lot of them, knew there was a reason why no one traveled to this continent — but still, he wasn't prepared.
For how the sun was overshadowed by a writhing, black mass of blood red gazes and polished bone. For a thousand eyes that stared at him from every direction, alight with emotions he didn't dare name. For the sheer hopelessness he would feel, knowing that he would never get his revenge.
The hands lifted him. Held him close.
He felt weightless, empty in these arms. Like nothing mattered.
Was this death?
Would he be able to meet his sister before he was dragged down into Hell?
What would she say to him?
Could he ever tell her how sorry he was?
He should've protected her.
Protected her from him and his corruptive words, his delusions of heroism.
He should've never let her go to that place. He knew she could only meet her death, he knew, and yet he allowed her to convince him anyway.
He killed her with his inaction. It was all his fault. It was —
"An interesting backstory. But not one I haven't heard before."
His eyes snapped open.
White hair. Visible red veins. Bone pale skin.
Red, glowing eyes. Grimm eyes.
"Who might you be, child?"
A second to take in. A second to act.
He reached for Dust and felt nothing. Not even the faint embers that always rested underneath his skin. So he swiped up towards its face, fingers curled like claws so he could dig his nails into those disgusting eyes —
Impact.
Something slender and wooden was driven directly into his face. It barely hurt yet it stunned him, slammed him back onto the hard ground. A hysterical, inappropriate laugh erupted from his throat, paralyzing him with its suddenness.
During that brief moment of uncontrolled laughter he couldn't control his body. Then the moment passed, leaving a disgusting sensation of violation.
Aura surged through his skin. He felt it flicker on and off — he never had good control of it, not since she left him — but it didn't matter. He'd use it anyway.
"Now, now."
A fist jammed itself into his gut. He felt some of his ribs shatter.
Everything went white, then dark. Blood mixed with bile filled his mouth, gagging him, drowning him. He couldn't move.
"You shouldn't move while you're injured, child."
A soft, chiding tone. It reminded him of Gretchen — and the thought burned the agony from his mind.
He reached for his Aura. Struggled to get to his feet —
"Enough."
Another blow, this time to his lower half. Inadvertently he opened his mouth to scream and could only let out a croaked, pathetic wheeze.
"Do you want to hurt yourself? Do you want to die? Because I will not be your instrument of suicide, child."
A gentle touch. On his chest, his forehead. Something other than skin was pressing against him — something that he could feel was flowing inside him.
The pain faded just as soon as it appeared. But he could still feel its touch. "There we are. Are you ready to talk, child?"
He tried to spit. It only landed back on his face.
"Oh dear, it seems that talking is beyond you. A shame. You seemed quite intelligent when I fished you from that wreckage. Perhaps I should have left you to die there?"
"...die…" The words were like sandpaper against his throat. But he had to say them. For her. "...die… Salem…"
"Oh?" There was delight in its tone. "You know who I am? Then you must be one of Ozma's newest pets."
He struggled. It didn't matter.
"A young hero who braved an army of monsters, risking both his life and the lives of his companions to save the world. From the Queen that ruled them all."
Through blurred vision he could make out a smile. Wide, joyful. Like Gretchen when he showed her the sapling. "A noble soul. Though… if you wish to kill me, you'll need to be better than the sorry sight before me."
"...kill." He reached for his Aura. For everything his body had. "Kill. You. I'll —"
Hands. Gentle, soothing hands, lifting him up into comforting arms. How long had it been since he had been held like this? How long had it been since he had someone to rely on?
The thought came to him against his will. Not since Gretchen had he felt so —
"Sleep, young hero. Our battle will come after your rest."
She covered his eyes and he drifted.
The guy was filthy — just absolutely covered in gunk — but I was too fucking stoked to care. And it wasn't just because of all the loot I scavenged from the airship.
Fuck yeah! I got a hero!
I couldn't believe a hero just plopped right on my doorstep. And a hero with a vengeance arc too?!
But God, he was weak. A one-two combo put him out like a light. It might've been because he was fucked up from the crash — and becaught I looted all the Dust from his body — but still. Something as simple as a plane crash shouldn't be enough to kill a hero. It wouldn't be enough to kill me and I was still weak as fuck compared to Salem!
I had a lot of work to do if I wanted this hero to be up to my standards. And even more work if I wanted to be the Final Boss I was always meant to be.
"God, I can't believe I met a hero this early," I griped to myself. "Like, I'm so unprepared it's not even funny. Shouldn't you be working through all the kingdom maps before you head to the Final Boss? This isn't a speedrun dude — and if it were, you'd be terrible at it!"
Okay, okay let's figure it out. What did I need most right now?
My immediate thought was power and immortality — but nah. I wasn't planning on getting into a fight with a hero this early. Sure he seemed weak, but so was I. If we got into a fight it would definitely be a struggle on my part — and if he told other heroes about it, it would significantly lower my intimidation factor.
"Oh the great and mighty Salem had to struggle against you? She must be totally easy, lol, what a disappointment. We should fight the Gods instead, they seem like a challenge!"
I shuddered, allowing the sheer horror of that nightmare to work its way through my system. "Fuck, I can't let that happen!"
Think of something else like… landscaping!
That's right, how could I possibly show off my Land of Darkness map when it was barren and boring? I needed to add some variety, some biomes, some scattered ruins and places where he could find loot and lore!
Maybe add a few safe areas as well, add some wards to keep the Grimm away. I had to fight off at least twenty when I picked the guy up, and that was when he was with me, a Grimm. If he was wandering around the place on his own, he'd get jumped by fifty of them per second.
Shit, I almost forgot humans need food and water. I was gonna need to add some lakes, some animals for hunting, fruits and veggies for a balanced diet — lots of stuff.
Ooooh, what if I made my own NPCs?! Like… a shopkeeper or a merchant! Whose currency is Aura or Grimm mist or something along those lines. Something he could easily trade with to get the stuff he needs, while also navigating his way through the Land of Darkness. They could even serve as a tutorial of sorts, or even a companion that'll help him as he makes his way to the Final Boss!
But who should I get to fulfill that role? I guessed I could summon someone — or I could fulfill the role myself with a bit of shapeshifting.
Actually, yeah, being a shopkeeper-companion-tutorial NPC sounded a lot more fun! Not as fun as being the Final Boss, but still! I'd get to keep a close eye on the hero, slowly build up the map as we went along, make sure he was fed and watered, and give him some lore as we traveled around. And as someone else I wouldn't have thousands of years worth of hype and reputation to live up to. I could be as weak or as strong as I wanted!
I just needed to make sure the hero was unconscious while I was getting all this set up. Should be easy to do; I just needed to hit his head whenever he woke up.
Brain damage? I had green orbs for that!
But the thing was, 200 CP wasn't nearly enough for all the things I wanted to set up. I needed more… though I wasn't entirely sure how I was gonna get some. Killing Grimm, even strong Grimm, didn't always give me CP. I was gonna need to figure out what the requirements were and fast.
I reached into my mind and activated the Grimoire.
Transformation
-100 CP
[SHAPESHIFTING]
Human Form (Transformation) [100]: These days a dragon the size of a skyscraper or an Angel capable of smiting cities could cause a bit of an upheaval. As proud as you may deservingly be of your true demonic form, being able to manifest as someone who looks like a normal human has its advantages. You may whenever you desire take up the form of a normal human to your specifications. Maybe you could become Prime Minister like this?
Perfect!
I transformed —
Wait, wait. Hold on. I needed to be somewhere safe just in case the Grimm attacked. The perk said human "form", so maybe it didn't entirely turn me human, just give me a human appearance — but I couldn't take that risk.
I was holding a hero after all. The only reason why the Grimm hadn't attacked him was because they assumed he was my prey.
I ran to a fairly isolated spot and transformed into something suitable. I felt myself grow a bit shorter, my shoulders a bit wider, my features changing and becoming sterner. The process wasn't uncomfortable; it kinda felt like a cool layer of skin was draped over my body.
I waited for a bit. No attacks.
I risked getting closer to another Grimm. It looked at me a bit weird but went back to wandering around.
Success!
Now for landscaping.
Domain
-100 CP
[LANDSCAPING]
Universal Dream (Domain) [100]: There's not much call for a shaman in a world without spirits. As you enter each new jump, you can choose to cause the creation of a spiritual reflection of any mundane dimension, much like the Middle Umbra and populated with Umbrood, so long as there isn't already one.
…holy shit. Now that was crazy!
I could actively feel reality — changing? Shifting? Getting fatter?
I didn't know how else to describe it, but it was wild.
Alright, I think I was gonna save my free perk for later. I needed to focus on this first before I did anything drastic.
Hazel woke up to eyes staring down at him.
Familiar eyes. Eyes he had seen in the mirror, in photos, in the face of the one he loved more than anyone else. Eyes he thought he'd never see again.
"Sup, buddy. You new to the Land of Darkness?"
She wasn't his sister.
He knew. Logically, he knew the woman couldn't be her.
And yet he felt his heart stop all the same. Because despite his common sense, his logic, his "lack of romance" that his sister so often complained about — he still hoped.
For that brief, solitary moment that felt like an eternity, he had hope that she was alive. That she returned to him. That all those years without her — the other half of his soul — were just a terrible nightmare that he could forget with a hug and the scent of peaches.
Her eyes. Her nose. The shape of her face, the color of her skin, the muscles that flexed beneath a battered shirt — it was all her. All so painfully Gretchen.
And then — reality. His eyes registered what he was actually seeing rather than the fantasy his grief created.
Her looks.
She was too old, easily twice Gretchen's age and then some. Had he known his parents he could have easily mistaken her for their mother — or even a grandparent.
The woman's hair was long, messy, and tangled. Gretchen always kept her hair cut short. She said it was more practical that way, less of a chance that it'd get caught by a Grimm. But she still loved her hair, and spent damn near two hundred lien a month keeping it groomed with hair products. In contrast the woman seemed to barely care and let it flow out as a tangled mess that draped over her shoulders, down her back, and disappeared underneath her seat.
Her posture.
She was too relaxed. Ever since meeting him Gretchen always had a coil of tension in her body, one that got worse as the years went by. A couple years into Beacon and she could never fully relax, not even when she was sleeping. She was always on her guard, always ready to drop everything and fight. Sometimes even the slightest of noises would cause her to lash out and break things.
None of the same tension expressed itself within the woman. She was relaxed in a way that Gretchen used to be when they were kids. Entirely unguarded, completely unfazed, and in no way intimidated by his presence — despite his size and the fact that he was covered in blood. Eyes partially closed, the slow rise and fall of her chest, like she was sleeping. She seemed to melt into her chair, limbs splayed out, her movements languid and unrushed. Like she had all the time in the world.
Her clothes.
They were much too expensive, too "fancy" for Gretchen to comfortably wear. Like something a professor or some wealthy businessman would have, rather than a down-and-dirty Huntress like her. He could practically hear Gretchen complain about how it wouldn't stand up to the easiest of Grimm fights, how the glasses would shatter and get into her eyes, how the gloves made picking things up harder than they needed to be.
But more than anything else? It was the look in her eyes that killed whatever fantasies he had.
"Well I'll be damned. It's not often I see a live one in these parts. Let alone one so… intact." She spoke in a deep Southern Vale accent, one that seemed fresh out of a good sleep. She let out a loud yawn and — with what seemed like great effort — sat up in her chair, her long messy hair scattering across her shoulders and pooling down into the seat.
He felt her eyes trail up and down his body, examining him like a bug underneath a pin. "Most of them get chewed up by the Grimm before they make it to the Umbra. It usually doesn't take all that long. You see their souls flicker in and out of this place for a bit before headin' on out to the afterlife. But you?"
The woman leaned in close. There was a lazy, almost sleazy grin on her face, one that showed off her perfectly white teeth. "You're lookin' a bit sturdier than the others. Too sturdy to end up in a place like this. You should be halfway to death's door if you somehow ended up here. Which means either you got a talent for findin' this place — or Her Royal Highness sent you here herself."
Mocking eyes and an arrogant tone. She looked at him like he was the butt of a sick joke, like he was some funny little animal she could point and laugh at. Like his confusion, his shock, his fear, were all hilarious.
A surge of disgust formed in his gut. How could he ever compare someone like this to Gretchen? It was insulting to even think about, a stain against her good name. She would never look at anyone like that, let alone him.
"Damn, she really got her fangs into you, huh Buddy?" she drawled. "Didn't even kill you or turn you into one of those monsters she's got locked up. Just dropped you off like a kid in a daycare. She must really wanna play with you." She smiled wider. Somehow, her teeth looked sharp. "Lucky for you I got more than a few toys you can play with. For the right price of course."
Hazel's hands curled into fists. He fought to keep the anger from his tone — though judging by the way her grin widened he didn't do too good of a job. "Who are you?"
The woman snorted. "Shouldn't you be askin' where you are?"
"Where? I'm —"
He stopped.
Stared.
He saw a brief glimpse of the Land of Darkness before the crash. A land of hard rock, dark crystals, red skies, black pools, and endless armies of monsters. A land where nothing would grow, no one would visit, and nothing would change. A barren wasteland that was fitting for the Queen of Grimm, the creature he had come to kill.
So where did it go?
All around him he could see nothing but mist. Black, rolling mist that was so dark it looked almost unreal, like someone painted on the face of reality. It stretched on as far as he could see, a flat and empty plane of darkness that met the horizon in the distance.
Said horizon consisted of a blank white void; no clouds, no stars, no moon, or sun to be seen. Just a stark white that looked almost blinding compared to the blackness below it. An endless stretch of nothing that felt both claustrophobically closed in and uncomfortably vast.
Colors appeared in the distance. Pillars of purples, reds, blues, greens — every color that did or didn't exist would pop up for a brief moment before disappearing just as quickly. Some were consumed by the black mist, the darkness overtaking the pillar's color entirely until nothing remained, at which point the mist would drop back down and become flat once more. Others had the horizon's blankness bleed into its color, bleaching it in a way akin to a burning photo until it became one with the bone white skies.
Every now and then the pillars of color would linger, becoming more defined, allowing Hazel to make out vague humanoid and animalistic shapes — before they, too, disappeared.
"What is this?" Hazel didn't feel ashamed of how his voice shook. The situation was absurd; one moment he was in the clutches of Salem, the next he was in an otherworldly place — because what else could it possibly be?
Hazel wasn't the type to question what his senses told him. And his senses told him that above all else, this unnatural place was quiet. Deafeningly so. The only things he could hear were his own breathing and the woman shifting in her seat. Not even his footsteps made a sound.
A sudden urge consumed him, compelling him to do something stupid and impulsive. Something Gretchen would do.
He knelt down to touch the black mist and felt his hand sink in up to his shoulder. Which didn't make any sense considering he was standing directly on it; his standing position should've collapsed the moment he shoved his hand in. He even reached further, curling his hand so he could touch the bottom of his boots. His placement didn't so much as twitch; it still felt like he was standing on solid ground even though he knew he wasn't. The fact was disorienting, and filled him with the same spark of fear he felt when he first started practicing his landing strategies.
The black mist curled around his arm, his legs, clinging to his skin. It felt like nothing. No coolness, no dampness, not even something extreme like pain. It — it didn't even feel like air. Just… nothing.
"What is this place?" He wasn't in the Land of Darkness. He might not be on Remnant anymore. "Where are we?"
"You're in the Umbra, Buddy. The mystical magical barrier that connects the physical world to the afterlife, created by Her Royal Highness herself."
The words were so nonsensical and absurd that he found himself automatically denying it before his brain caught up. "That can't be true. There is no afterlife."
Even as he said it his mind whirred. The Land of Darkness was said to be unlike any place in Remnant — a place of untold horrors according to Gretchen and the scant few records he could find. Prying information from him was like pulling teeth, but what little Hazel managed to get seemed to imply that Salem had used her magic to alter the entire continent. In what ways, he refused to mention.
Was this place truly a result of Salem's power? The ability to pierce through the boundary between life and death — the ability to encroach on something not even he could touch —
His eyes trailed to those pillars of color. The way some of them turned humanoid before disappearing. Could they be…?
Could Gretchen be…?
But all that assumed the woman wasn't lying to him. For all he knew she could be working with her, messing with his mind and giving him false hope before she ended his life.
But if she wasn't —
"An atheist? And you ended up in the Umbra of all places?" She snorted. "Now that's wild!"
The woman got up and stretched, letting out another yawn. "But I'll tell ya what, Buddy. If you're still a bit skeptical, then how about you come with me and take a good look at those spirits over there. I'll show you the ropes, give ya a feel for this place before we get down to business."
She shoved her hands in her pockets and strode over to the nearest clump of color. He followed behind her at a distance, his mind whirling with possibilities even as he kept his fists clenched with emotions he could barely control.
Attacking this — this woman would be foolish. Even if she made a mockery of Gretchen by existing, logically Hazel knew that it wasn't her fault. That as mocking as she seemed, she had done nothing to him. That it would be better to let her tell him what he needed to know. That she would be better off alive and answering his questions.
If Gretchen were there he knew she'd make fun of him for how impulsive he's been lately. "What happened to the cool cucumber I used to know?" she'd say, smacking him on the back with a laugh. "Ya gotta be patient, Haz!"
The woman's words brought him out of his thoughts. "You see these bursts of color, Buddy?"
She stood before a pillar of color. It was a bright yellow that reminded him of the highlights in Gretchen's notebooks. "These are spirits. The souls of the people down below, in the physical plane."
"I… see." He maintained his distance, making sure to keep the woman in front of him. "Are they safe?"
"To touch? Sure, so long as you don't touch them for too long. A quick poke and you'll see what I mean."
He hesitated — common sense warring with curiosity — before touching the pillar of light.
the smell of the forest/bandages around his waist/growls of hatred/screaming screaming screaming/a sword in his gut/pain pain pain pain pain/anger fear shock panic/i don't wanna die/i don't wanna die/i don't wanna die/i don't wanna die/i don't wanna die/i don't wanna die/i don't wanna die
For the briefest of instances, Hazel stopped being Hazel Rainart and became someone else entirely. His mind, body, and soul were overridden by someone else's consciousness, filled with an existence that did not fit his own. It didn't last long — barely a second — and yet he knew it would be a feeling that he would remember until the day he died.
Hazel jolted backwards, nearly falling to the ground. The emotions/thoughts/memories that filled him in that brief second were gone — but the echoes remained. Faint images and feelings that he knew weren't his, but felt so viscerally real all the same. So real that he briefly felt at odds with his own body, his own thoughts, his very soul.
The woman's voice cut through his panic. "Yeah, see? It's a rush isn't it, Buddy? Livin' a life that isn't yours, gettin' to really know how someone ticks? All that meet and greet, conversation shit doesn't hold a candle to gettin' inside someone's head, ya know?"
His fists clenched. He fought to keep his breathing steady, to maintain a mask of calm. "That was —"
"But you believe me now, right? These are the souls of the people down below. Spirits as I like to call 'em." She held up three fingers. "They're the ones who visit, the ones who stay, and the ones who get gone."
The yellow spirit lingered there. Its shape began to twist, forming into something vaguely humanoid — before the black mist consumed it entirely. The sight of it instinctively caused him to reach out — before the woman held an arm in front of him.
"That was a visitin' spirit. Near death experiences, comas, temporary medical death, your Aura shatterin' — all that can get your soul sent to the Umbra for a brief visit. Then once the physical body stabilizes and death is no longer a concern, the mist swallows the spirit up and sends them back to the physical plane."
All around him he could see pillars being consumed by the black mist. The ominous sight felt more reassuring; he relaxed a bit. "Shattering your Aura can send you to this… place?"
"Sure does. Your mind doesn't remember, but your soul does. That's why shatterin' your Aura feels so damn uncomfortable: your soul's gettin' ripped outta your body and then gettin' slammed back in afterwards."
Hazel rubbed his chest. The first time he shattered his Aura he felt his vision go dark for a second. He remembered panicking before Gretchen calmed him down. Said that it was normal, that every Aura user went through the same thing. That he'd get used to it — and he did.
The thought of his soul appearing in this place was… disturbing. Uncomfortable.
The woman pointed to a red spirit, one that was being bleached into the white horizon. "Now see that? That's a goner spirit. You end up dead, your soul stops by the Umbra for a bit. You linger here for about five to ten minutes, roughly the time it takes for your brain to die. Then after that you get sucked up to the afterlife."
He stared up at the white sky. "Is it possible to come back?"
"Huh?"
"From the afterlife. Is it possible to bring someone back?"
For a moment she looked uncertain. Then she shrugged. "Probably. I sure as hell don't know, but Her Royal Highness might have a clue. She created this place after all. 'Course, that'd require goin' up to Her Royal Highness and askin' her — which is the next worst thing to a death sentence. I wouldn't chance it myself."
But he would.
He would take any chance, any risk for her.
Old plans, grudges, thoughts of vengeance — for the first time since Gretchen's death Hazel discarded them. Because her soul was up there, in that blank white sky. All he had to do was reach up and they'd be together again.
Distantly, he heard the woman's voice. "Now those guys over there? Those are the poor suckers who stay. Not sure what the criteria for that is. Maybe your soul's too strong, maybe you had one too many near death experiences, maybe your Aura shattered particularly hard — who knows. Point is, you get stuck in the Umbra as a disembodied spirit. Cursed to wander this plane of existence until they eat enough souls to —"
"You work for Salem, right?"
" — have to fight your way through them. But you're in luck, because I have a few things in my shop that'll —" She stopped. "Wait, what?"
He stared into her eyes. Beautiful, brown eyes. His sister's eyes. "How do I join her?"
"You want —" She spluttered, looking completely off guard. "Wait, what? Aren't you a hero? Aren't you here for revenge?! She killed your sister!"
"But she can bring her back, right? If she can open a barrier between life and death, if she can create an entire world like this — then she could bring one person back to life, right?"
The question lingered in the air. Hope, deadly and oh-so addicting, filled his mind like the most blissful of drugs. Everything he ever wanted, everything he never needed, all dependent on a single answer.
Please.
Please let it be true.
Because if it wasn't — if he was given false hope once more — then he would stop at nothing to kill her. To kill everything she ever created, everything she ever touched. He would stop at nothing to put an end to Salem once and for all.
"Yeah, obviously! She's the most powerful bein' on the planet! Bringing one person back to life – pssh! That's fucking child's play compared to the shit she gets to on the regular!"
Arrogance and pride lined her face before the woman seemed to realize what he was saying. "B-but, I mean, she's still Salem. The Queen of Grimm, Ruler of Darkness, the one behind every bad thing that's ever happened ever! A Final B— er, a villain like that would make you do all sorts of fucked up shit, ya know? Kill babies, eat puppies, start wars in her name, take over the world, kill Gods — the list is endless! Are you really willin' to do all that just ta —"
"Yes." He stepped closer. "I will do anything and everything if it means seeing my sister breathe again. I'll sell my soul for the chance."
For a moment she just stared at him.
"...dude, seriously?" She slumped forward, the used car salesman-esque confidence disappearing alongside her (apparently) fake Southern accent. "Bro, I had a whole set up and everything!"
She gestured to her table which — seemed to be some sort of shop? He could see boxes of items and shelves behind her, with little price tags in front of each one. A sign that read, "SILVER'S UMBRA SUPPLY SHOP" was proudly displayed in red paint on top, albeit slightly crooked.
"I was gonna sell so much shit! It was gonna be a whole thing, where you fought through dozens of hungry spirits and I'd sell you all sorts of cool weapons and items and —" She stopped herself. "You know what? Nevermind. I'll save it for the next hero. It was too early anyways, I barely had anything set up and my to-do list was —"
She seemed to remember that he was there. "Ahem."
The accent came back along with her sleazy smile. "I mean, I don't exactly work for Her Royal Highness. We have a… professional sorta understandin' between us two, ya know? I do my thing, she does hers. Buuuuuuut if you wanna get in touch with her, I don't mind letting her know. She's been meanin' to get some new minions ever since Ozma — or Ozpin — killed the last batch."
"Then —!"
"It might take a bit to earn her trust," she warned. "She's been burned before. One of her core agents turned against her and started workin' for Ozma during the Great War. Made her a bit twitchy when it comes to acceptin' help. She'll probably want to give you a few tasks to test your loyalty and skill, 'pecially if you've worked for the old man in the past.
"But once you succeed, she'll give ya a reward. You can ask for your sister's resurrection then, alongside other things if ya do a good enough job."
"Then how do I —"
"Here. Take these."
She chucked a bag at him. Inside there was food, water, camping supplies, a pickaxe, and a few dozen Dust crystals.
"First things first. Ya wanna get on Salem's good side? Ya gotta prove you're strong enough to be worth it."
She abruptly pushed him.
He tried to steady himself but felt his foot hit empty air. He fell down, his back hitting hard ground instead of black mist.
The noise hit him like a gunshot. The scream of wind, the growls of Grimm, the shifting rocks and dust between his fingers. He breathed in cold air and looked up into a red sky, the shattered moon hovering above him.
In front of him was a rift in space. The shopkeeper's upper body was poking out and her arm was stretched out, pointing in a far off direction. "Her castle's straight northeast, 'bout twenty kilometers away. In between here and there are nothin' but Grimm. You fight your way through the mob and get to the castle, you'll earn a decent amount of goodwill. It'll save ya some time provin' yourself and get ya right where ya need to be."
She briefly disappeared into the rift and came back with something in her hands. It was a black crystal with a glowing center. She tossed it at him. "Break that if ya wanna stop by my shop. The first one's free, but the next ones ya gotta pay with your Aura."
She gave him one final wave, her grin wide enough to split her face in two. "Make sure not to die, Buddy! I don't get all that many customers!"
"Tha—"
The rift closed, leaving Hazel with a backpack, the Grimm, and a newfound hope.
Welp. That didn't go how I thought it would.
God, I had so much lore planned out. I was gonna be his secret ancestor, scatter hints about her dark backstory, and imply that there was some sort of ancient technique that was passed down in the family, go through a mini training arc as she taught him the family arts, have a dramatic showdown when she gave in to her bloodlust and tried to eat his soul, and then have a tearful goodbye as her soul passed on to the afterlife. It was gonna be sweet, dramatic, hilarious, and impactful all at once! I bought a whole perk for it and everything!
Making
0 CP
[FOOD]
Resources (Making) [0]: In Mobius there are many activities that require you to have specific items and materials on hand in order to participate. With this, you'll no longer have to worry about grinding out materials in order to get to the content you want. In future Jumps, this will make it so that you always have just enough resources in order to complete any ongoing projects you are currently working on no matter how big or important they are. Does not give you infinite money or resources, just enough to complete what you're currently working on.
Fuuuuuuuck dude, the perk was basically a waste! I barely got past the exposition dump, didn't get to sell any of the merchandise I set up, couldn't even begin to hint towards a super special family technique, and even dropped character when the guy went off script! It was a total disaster!
Thank God the guy was just an evil minion and not a proper hero. It would've been so fucking embarassing if I just fumbled in front of an actual protagonist like that. They totally would've been talking about it to other people and laughing about me behind my back and making fun of me during boss fights and — !
Ugh. Hopefully if I resurrect his dead sister he'll shut the fuck up about my slip-ups.
Speaking of… how the hell am I gonna resurrect someone without getting the Gods' attention? They might be gone from Remnant, but that didn't mean they weren't keeping an eye out. And based on Salem's memories they're really fucking intense about the balance between life and death. One wrong move and they'll come down and fuck me up before I can put up a fight, taking the Final Boss title away from me and turning me into a chump!
Dammit. It would've been so much easier if my new minion's sister died recently. A few days, even a month would've let me slide on through — but five years?
Fuck.
No point in complaining now. I made my bed and I was for sure gonna lay in it. No way in hell was I gonna be the sorta Final Boss that abused, misused, and lied to their minions. That sorta thing was like deliberately letting your weapons rust or letting laziness degrade your skills over time — just plain stupid.
I was planning on being a competent Final Boss, thank you very much! No "she would've won if she did this" debates for me!
Speaking of competent, my new minion was rocking through the Land of Darkness like Doom Slayer. Ripping apart Grimm with his bare hands, suplexing Ursas into the ground, riding Nevermores like horses and forcing them to kamikaze into other Grimm, using a King Taijitu like a whip, forcing a Geist to take over a boulder and piloting it like a mech — at this rate he was gonna beat me to my own castle. I might have to cut my training short just to meet up with him.
Goddammit. If I knew he was a minion from the start, I would've just kept him unconscious while I leveled up! Now I had to scramble to get everything together — cleaning the castle, setting up the rooms, practicing my lines, getting the Grimm under control, getting stronger, coming up with feasible power-ups — on a deadline!
Shit. Maybe I should make my new minion into a secretary or something. I really needed to get more organized...