RWBY: Moon Reflection

Crimson stood in the ruins of the town, his breathing steady, still in his demonic form. The silence was shattered by the sound of rushing water, followed by the distinct groaning of breaking wood. He turned his head sharply, his senses warning him of something immense approaching.

In the distance, a crimson tide surged forward—a wave of blood sweeping through the streets. Houses and debris were swept away like fragile paper as the flood approached with terrifying speed.

Crimson leapt onto the closest remaining building, his feet finding precarious balance on the rooftop. He watched as the wave consumed everything in its path, its torrential power obliterating the town. Even the building beneath him could not withstand the force, crumbling beneath the weight of the flood.

Crimson fell.

But instead of sinking into the blood, his feet found purchase on the surface. He stood atop the swirling, churning red tide as though it were solid ground. The blood beneath him was warm, its metallic scent thick and cloying, clinging to the air.

The world around him shifted. The previously starless sky now held a moon, glowing a malignant red. It hung high in the darkness, casting a baleful light over the blood-soaked expanse. The moon's eerie glow reflected off the surface of the blood, painting the entire scene in hues of crimson and black.

Crimson's eyes darted across the endless horizon, searching for what would come next. Then, he saw them. People.

Figures began to rise from the blood, grotesque and lifeless. Ruby stood closest, her face pale, her eyes empty sockets with blood streaks flowing down her cheeks. Beside her was Yang, holding her own severed head in her hands, her lips twisted into a chilling smile.

Crimson's heart, though hardened through centuries of living, felt a pang as he saw more people coming: Qrow, Pyrrha, and Weiss, each of them broken and mutilated, standing like grotesque mannequins. Behind them stood the enemies he had defeated—Cinder, Tyrian, and many others, their twisted forms no less haunting.

From his past life, he saw the Mist Hashira and other people he had met, their forms rising like specters from the blood. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, surrounded him, forming a macabre circle. Each of them bore the wounds that had killed them: missing limbs, gaping slashes, or twisted, broken forms.

The sheer weight of their presence was suffocating. Their silent gazes pierced through him, their eyes—or lack thereof—burning into his soul.

Crimson's attention was drawn behind him by an unnatural stillness. He turned slowly to see something that made even him pause. Himself.

Standing a few paces away was Crimson's own reflection in his demonic form. The doppelgänger's eyes gleamed with an unsettling light, its stance a mirror of Crimson's own. It held a blade identical to his, dripping with blood.

The demon smiled faintly, its voice dripping with mockery. "Why do you cling to your humanity? You know and understand how pathetic humans are, don't you? They are slow, weak, and burdened by emotions. Their strength is fleeting, their existence fragile."

The demon raised its blade, pointing it at Crimson. "You know this truth better than anyone. So why refuse what you've become? Why deny ascending and becoming something better, superior?"

Crimson didn't respond immediately. His grip on his sword tightened as he raised it, the blade gleaming under the red moonlight.

"People working together with enough will and courage can beat even us," Crimson replied.

The demon laughed, its voice echoing across the blood-soaked plains. "Ah, can they now? The only one who can beat us is us."

The demon swung its blade, unleashing a crescent-shaped slash of moonlight, its edges shimmering with deadly intent. Crimson countered instantly, his own blade carving through the air, releasing a similar crescent slash.

The two attacks collided mid-air, the impact releasing a violent shockwave. The force of their clash caused a rain of blood to fall from the sky, staining everything below. The blood pooled on Crimson's shoulders, trickling down his body as he stared down his adversary.

The demon took a step forward, its movements fluid and confident. "You know I'm right, don't you? Humanity is a weakness. Emotion is a burden. You've seen it, experienced it. People eventually—" it gestured toward the grotesque figures surrounding them—"will die. People you trust will betray you. They can never understand you, and those you swore to protect? They feared you the moment they saw your strength. So why cling to the fragile facade of humanity?"

Crimson's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a resolute line. He didn't speak, but his body shifted. Slowly, deliberately, his demonic form began to recede, his features softening as he transformed back into his human self.

The doppelgänger tilted its head, a twisted smirk curling across its face—a distorted reflection of Crimson's own. "Ah, so you've finally seen reason," it said, its voice low and dripping with malice.

Crimson unsheathed his blade, the steel gleaming under the blood-red moonlight. His voice was calm yet firm as he spoke, the first words cutting through the silence like a razor:

"What I know, you know. What I will be, you will be. You are the mirror of me, and I am the reflection of you."

He raised his blade, the edge unwavering. "Human versus demon. Let's put it to the test."

The demon's laugh echoed like a sinister melody. "You dare challenge me?" it sneered, stepping forward, its movements eerily smooth. "I am the better version of you. Stronger, faster, more durable. My awareness surpasses yours, I heal from wounds that would kill you in an instant and unburdened by emotions or time" Its smirk widened as it leaned closer. "So tell me, Human—what can you do?"

Crimson remained silent, his sword raised defensively.

With a roar, the demon attacked, unleashing a barrage of crescent-shaped slashes from its Moon Breathing techniques, each strike enhanced by its Blood Demon Art. The air filled with whistling crescents that split the blood pond below them and ripped apart the grotesque people around them. Crimson deflected what he could, but the sheer force of the onslaught forced him back, step by step.

"Look at you!" the demon mocked, its voice dripping with amusement. "Struggling to keep up. How long can you last, little human?"

Crimson's eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening as the barrage continued. Slowly, he began to anticipate the attacks, dodging and parrying with increasing precision. Step by step, he closed the gap between them.

The demon's grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise as Crimson's blade met its own in a clash of sparks. "Ah I see," the demon said, its voice low and mocking, "you've managed to see it—the Transparent World—even as a mere human."

With a growl, the demon's sword shifted, elongating and sprouting jagged, blade-like protrusions along its edges. It swung with renewed ferocity, sending Crimson flying with a single strike.

As Crimson staggered to his feet, the demon circled him like a predator. "Doesn't it infuriate you?" it hissed. "Ruby and Yang get to live, to get old, while you are running out of time because of them. You're dying, Human. You know it."

Crimson's lips thinned into a hard line, but he said nothing.

"Oh, you can lie to them, you can lie to yourself, but not to me." The demon's grin widened, its voice growing darker. "Qrow didn't save you that day. He just gave you twenty years to watch your life drain away. That's why you refused to teach them breathing style. Not because they couldn't learn, but because you couldn't bear to see them end up like you—dying young. You even denied them the knowledge of Total Concentration Breathing, fearing that with their talent, they would develop a new breathing technique."

Crimson gripped his sword tighter, the knuckles on his hand turning white.

"You got angry about the attack on Beacon, not because of the damage it caused or the lives lost. You were angry because you knew you didn't have time left to start over, that your efforts were in vain and nothing changed at the end" the demon continued, circling closer. "Yang's lie and actions led you here. If she had not run that day, you wouldn't have crossed the limit, none of this would have happened. Why did you go south? Because they might be heading north. Deep down, you wanted them to think you had abandoned them and were living somewhere alone, because they would never expect you to die—not after your display at Haven. And for what was All of that? Yang isn't your sister. Your parents lied to you the whole time. But you can still live; you just need to accept me. That family isn't worth your sacrifice. Nothing is."

Crimson's voice finally broke through, calm yet steely. "I decided long ago that if fate is cruel to them, I will not be its accomplice."

The demon smirked before replying, "How kind of you. But remind me—why didn't you become a huntsman and help them more?"

Crimson pursed his lips and tightened his grip on the sword.

The demon's smirk widened. "Oh, right! You're afraid that if you take up a weapon and fight, one day you might shatter them like glass on a whim—just like when you once thought of killing Tai. You felt regret and disgust for that thought, but the truth is, you fear that one day you will act on a fleeting impulse, they are too fragile to resist"

Crimson's eyes widened, his body trembling slightly. He had no words to reply—the demon's words were the thoughts haunting him. The knowledge that he was always a moment away from digging another grave.

The demon's face turned serious. "This world has no rules for us! You spent so much of your life restraining yourself, and not one bit of it will do you any good. Just stop pretending to be human! I want to let go! I want to kill! I want to devour people!!"

Crimson stared at the demon his eyes still shaking slightly before calming down and replying "I deserve to be chained, I don't want to become you, I am longing for the day I die"

The demon roared, lunging forward to clash with Crimson once more. Their blades met with a resounding clang, each strike sending shockwaves rippling through the blood-soaked battlefield. The intensity of their duel churned the crimson tide beneath them, waves of blood rising and falling with every ferocious impact.

Their clashes grew in both speed and strength, the force of their blows reverberating through the air. Crimson's blade met the demon's strike for strike, his movements a seamless blend of precision and power. Despite the demon's monstrous speed and relentless ferocity, Crimson held his ground, his breathing sharp and controlled, the rhythm of battle fueling his resolve.

The demon unleashed crescent-shaped slashes, the shimmering arcs of its Blood Demon Art slicing through the air. These deadly crescents carved through the blood pool and obliterated the grotesque figures that surrounded them. Crimson ducked and weaved, his blade moving in a blur as he deflected the slashes. However, not every crescent was deflected cleanly, and their scattered paths wreaked havoc around them, leaving shredded bodies in their wake.

With a guttural growl, the demon shifted its stance, executing Moon Breathing techniques. Its movements became almost hypnotic as it transitioned seamlessly into the 14th Form: Catastrophe, Tenman Crescent Moon, an intricate barrage of chaotic, interweaving slashes. Crimson's eyes sharpened as he sidestepped the spiraling attacks, his blade deflecting those too close to evade. The air shimmered with deadly crescents that split the blood tide and left jagged trails in their wake.

Not giving Crimson a moment's reprieve, the demon roared and transitioned into the 16th Form: Moonbow, Half Moon—a graceful yet devastating assault of overlapping arcs designed to disorient and overwhelm. Crimson gritted his teeth, ducking beneath one arc while twisting his body to block another. His blade vibrated with each parry, the sheer force of the attacks threatening to overwhelm him.

As the fight wore on, Crimson's body began to show the toll of battle. Cuts appeared across his arms and torso, blood seeping into his torn clothes and staining the ground beneath him. Each wound was a reminder of the demon's immense power, but Crimson's resolve remained unshaken. His breathing, though labored, maintained its rhythm, and his gaze never wavered from his opponent.

The battlefield had become a chaotic maelstrom of blood, steel, and crescent-shaped devastation. Despite the pain coursing through his body and the unrelenting onslaught of the demon, Crimson fought with unyielding determination. Each clash of their blades echoed with defiance, the sound resonating across the blood-soaked expanse as the battle raged on.

But the battle took its toll. Crimson's body began to falter under the relentless assault. Blood dripped from a dozen wounds, and his vision blurred as the strain pushed him to his limits. Even so, his blade found its mark. In a swift motion, he severed the demon's hand and slashed its neck.

The demon stumbled back, its headless form teetering as Crimson stood, his sword embedded in the ground for support.

"You're not done," Crimson said as he breathed heavily. "Let's finish this."

The demon's head reformed, and its body began to shift grotesquely, with protruding fangs and mandibles, large, uneven white horns on the front and back of its head, pointed nails, red outgrowths on its face, its pupils looking in different directions, shorter and messier hair, several thin tubes poking out of its body, and numerous black and red scorpion tail-like appendages haphazardly sprouting all across its entire body—a grotesque parody of itself.

Its voice was guttural and distorted. "I'll devour you!"

Crimson's blade turned bright red as he raised it, preparing for the last clash. And then, the two clashed once more in a final, desperate battle. The demon's grotesque sword tore through Crimson's body, severing his arm, piercing his legs, slashing his throat, and carving a deep wound across his chest. Blood poured from his mutilated form, and his vision went dark as he lost both his eyes.

Despite his broken body, Crimson's will remained unshaken. With one final, defiant swing, his blade carved through the demon's body vertically. The demon screamed, its body splitting in half as Crimson's sword continued its path.

The demon's two halves collapsed, disintegrating into ash as the battle ended.

Crimson dropped to his knees, his body trembling and broken. His bloodied sword lowered, and a faint, weary smile crossed his lips.