RWBY: Monarchs of Remnant

Ten minutes into the battle felt like an eternity.

For Summer, for Raven, for every Atlas and Bloodborn hunter still standing—the fight had pushed them to their limits. Their armor was torn, their aura reserves dangerously low, and their weapons burned with overuse. They had slain dozens upon dozens of monsters, their blades and bullets carving a path through the never-ending tide—but the enemies kept coming, wave after wave, like the dungeon itself was determined to grind them into the soil.

Three more lives were lost—ripped apart, crushed, devoured. Their screams still echoed in the minds of those left behind. And despite their efforts, the enemy numbers only seemed to *grow*.

Then the earth split open.

A thunderous quake shook the entire field as a massive worm-like creature burst from the ground, its grotesque body coated in thick moss and reinforced with bark-like armor. It towered into the sky—at least 1,000 feet long—its circular maw lined with spiraling teeth dripping with sap and gore. But it wasn't the worm that stole everyone's breath.

It was the figure riding atop it.

A person stood on the creature's back, arms limp, swaying with the worm's movements. The hunters' eyes widened in disbelief, and whispers of recognition broke through the chaos.

"A Faunus...?"

"That's impossible—he's supposed to be dead!"

The bloodied figure was unmistakable—a reptile Faunus, one of the hunters who had been officially declared dead after the first failed expedition into the dungeon. His name had been spoken with grief and reverence by the survivor who escaped. Yet here he was—standing atop the monster that now loomed over the battlefield.

But something was horribly wrong.

From the top of his skull, a thick plant stalk jutted out—piercing straight through his head like a twisted root. Vines slithered down the sides of his face, burrowing into his spine and curling around his limbs like puppeteer strings. Blood had long since dried across his face, but fresh trails continued to drip from his vacant, lifeless eyes.

He wasn't alive.

He wasn't himself.

He was *being controlled*—a corpse marionette mounted atop a monster.

The battlefield fell into momentary silence, the sheer horror of the sight paralyzing everyone for a breath too long.

Then the worm roared, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the earth.

As the colossal worm settled into the earth with a ground-shaking groan, the battlefield changed.

Every plant-like monster—no matter how savage or mindless moments ago—froze in place.

They stopped attacking.

Even those mid-charge halted, lowering their bodies like beasts showing reverence. A wave of unnatural silence spread across the once-chaotic field, as if the arrival of this towering beast and its grotesque rider demanded obedience. It wasn't respect—it was submission. The lesser creatures instinctively made way, clearing a straight path through the blood-soaked flowers.

And through that path walked the possessed Faunus.

His steps were slow and disjointed, legs dragging like a puppet awkwardly pulled along by invisible strings. The thick stalk of the parasite still jutted grotesquely from his skull, writhing and pulsing with a sickly green glow. Small rootlets wrapped around his limbs, twitching every few seconds to force movement. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides, but his head turned with mechanical stiffness, staring blankly toward Summer and Raven.

Despite being on the edge of collapse—bloodied, aura nearly drained, mana barely holding on—Summer and Raven stood firm, weapons ready, shoulders squared. Exhaustion burned in their limbs, but neither flinched. They knew whatever this thing was… it wasn't the Faunus they once knew.

It was something far worse.

The parasite atop the Faunus' skull began to pulse rhythmically. Roots embedded deep within his nervous system squirmed, and then—violently—sent a jolt of electricity through his body. The corpse convulsed, limbs stiffening unnaturally, jaw cracking open as if it hadn't moved in days.

And then, through the Faunus' bloodied mouth, a voice emerged—unnatural, broken, and distorted.

"W\...we...llc...o..me… yo...u… t...o… ou...r… par...a…d...ise."

Each syllable was dragged out, forced through dead vocal cords, distorted by twitching muscles and rotting nerves. The sound was inhuman—wet, glitching, like something mimicking language without understanding it.

The possessed Faunus swayed, eyes wide and vacant.

The parasite… grinned through him.

"W...elcom...e yo...u to our p...para...dise..."

The parasite repeated its twisted greeting, the voice glitching through the dead Faunus' mouth like a broken recording, as if it were *testing*—learning how to better control the corpse it now puppeted. Each repetition smoothed the speech slightly, the grotesque mimicry growing more stable, more confident.

Everyone stood frozen.

The sight before them was a waking nightmare—one that turned even hardened A-rank hunters pale. No one spoke. No one moved. Even the monsters around them remained still, as if they too awaited the parasite's next words.

Raven and Summer stood ahead of the group, a wall between the survivors and the monstrous emissary. Their faces were stern, calm, but beneath their controlled expressions was the same disgust and horror shared by everyone.

Then Summer stepped forward, raising *Sundered Rose* and pointing it directly at the parasite.

"What are you? And why are you doing this?" she demanded, voice firm, cutting through the silence.

The Faunus' mouth trembled—and this time, when the parasite spoke, its voice was clearer, more deliberate.

"I… I am the em…issary of… my lord…"

"*Emissary!?*" Raven snapped, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean? And if so… why are you here?"

The parasite paused for a moment. Its root twitched, and then the puppet's head tilted unnaturally to the side, like a curious child learning to speak.

"To invite you… to join my lord," it said, the voice now eerily smooth, eerily human. "So you… can be *saved*."

"*Saved?!*" Raven growled, her grip tightening on *Omen*. "After what you did to those 20 B-rank hunters?! That's what you call *saving*?"

The Faunus' cracked lips curved into a forced smile, one shaped by nerves pulled like puppet strings.

"We did?" the parasite said, gesturing toward the worm's enormous, yawning mouth. "You mean… *after we saved them*?"

The hunters' eyes shifted in dread toward the worm.

From the creature's vast, circular maw—moist, reeking, layered with green sap and thorn-like teeth—**nineteen** figures emerged.

They stumbled out one by one, twitching and unnatural, their bodies no longer human in motion or structure. Each of them bore a parasite sprouting from their skulls—grotesque flowers with pulsing petals embedded in their heads. Some were missing limbs, replaced with writhing vines that supported and *moved* for them. Others dragged broken bodies, spines twisted, eyes lifeless yet open. A few had torsos barely held together by tangled roots.

They weren't alive. But they weren't dead either.

They were *claimed*.

Gasps and muffled cries filled the field. Even the most battle-hardened among the Atlas and Bloodborn forces struggled to maintain composure. Some took involuntary steps back. Some dropped their weapons in silent disbelief.

Summer's hands trembled for just a moment—just one—but she didn't lower her weapon.

It was a sight none of them would ever forget.

"And what if we decline your offer?" Summer asked coldly, her eyes never leaving the possessed Faunus, her grip on *Sundered Rose* steady. She could feel the unease behind her—Atlas and Bloodborn hunters trembling, the weight of fear locking them in place—but she held firm.

The corpse tilted its head again, that grotesque, unnatural smile stretching across its bloodstained face.

"Then… we will *force* you if you don't."

A chill swept through the air like a wave of frost.

A flicker of terror sparked in the eyes of the hunters behind Summer and Raven. No one moved, but inside, they were all unraveling. Muscles clenched. Breaths caught. It was as if time had slowed, dragging them through the rising horror.

The parasite spoke again—still smiling, voice unnervingly calm.

"But…" it said, its root-tendrils wriggling with anticipation, "we will give you a *chance*."

It took a step forward, and the possessed body shuddered under its own weight. The creature's tone shifted, filled with quiet pride, as though it were delivering a divine message.

"If you defeat *us*—who possess this body—and prove you are capable… you may earn the right to leave this place and will let you *participate* in the *Ragnarok*."

The word hung in the air like a curse.

*Ragnarok.*

The battlefield went silent again—deafening silence. No one could comprehend what they had just heard. Summer and Raven glanced at each other, their minds racing. That word wasn't just ancient myth. Not in this world. It carried weight—*divine judgment*, *world-ending war*, *chaos made real*.

But there was no time to process it.

Not yet.

The battlefield was still full of possessed hunters—those shambling, mutilated bodies now stepping forward with twitching limbs and hollow eyes, the flowers on their heads blooming in grotesque rhythm.

Summer tightened her stance. Raven did the same, her odachi humming with restrained fury.

They couldn't afford to lose focus. Not now.

The path was clear:

**Survive.**

**Defeat the possessed.**

**Deal with the parasite.**

And find out what *Ragnarok* truly meant—if they lived long enough.