The sun bathed nagerie in its gentle warmth, casting soft shadows over the Belladonna household. Blake sat at the dining table with Sun, her parents, Kali and Ghira, sharing a quiet mont of respite. The months spent at ho had been a balm for her frayed nerves, allowing her to process the horrors of the White Fang attack and the devastating fall of Beacon. Though the mories haunted her, she found comfort in the presence of her family and the serenity of nagerie.
Blake sighed as she sipped her tea, her amber eyes distant. "It's strange," she began, "being back here, after everything."
Kali reached over, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's. "You've been through so much, Blake. It's only natural to need ti to heal."
"I thought I understood the White Fang," Blake said, her voice trembling. "When I left them, I believed they were just… misguided. That I could find another way. But that night... seeing what they beca, the destruction they caused, it shook to my core."
Sun, sitting beside her, offered a supportive smile. "You made the right choice leaving them, Blake. You've been fighting for what's right, even when it was hard."
Blake nodded, though her expression remained clouded. "It's just… I can't stop thinking about Crimson. During Oobleck's class, he made a comnt about the White Fang, and I argued with him, thinking he was being cruel or even racist. But now… I see how blind I was. He was right. They've beco sothing far worse than I ever imagined."
The room fell silent for a mont, the weight of her confession sinking in. Despite her heavy thoughts, Blake managed a small smile as she looked at her parents. "But I've missed this—being with all of you, talking about normal things. It's been good to reconnect, to rember what I'm fighting for."
Kali's expression softened. "We're glad you're here, Blake. And it sounds like you've made so incredible friends at Beacon."
Blake's eyes lit up slightly. "I have. I told you about my team, but there's also Crimson. He's… complicated. He loves his sisters deeply and would do anything for them. His way of thinking is… unconventional, to say the least, but he always does what he believes is right. And during the fall of Beacon... he stood against the Grimm Dragon by himself. Without him, we might not have made it."
Ghira leaned forward, intrigued. "This Crimson sounds like quite the individual. A warrior of that caliber at such a young age…"
Kali frowned, her expression growing uneasy. "I've heard rumors," she said softly, "about soone called the 'Moon Demon.' A human who's been slaughtering Faunus rcilessly. They say he's a monster."
Blake froze, her heart sinking. The title struck a chord, her mind racing with thoughts of Crimson and the path he seed determined to walk. Before she could respond, a piercing scream shattered the calm.
Everyone bolted upright, Ghira imdiately rushing toward the front door. Blake and the others followed closely behind. At the entrance stood a frantic Faunus guard, his face pale and his words tumbling out in panic.
"A human... he's here," the guard stamred. "He ca to the kuo kuana demanding the location of the White Fang branch. When we tried to apprehend him… he started killing. He's unstoppable!"
Ghira's face darkened, a grim determination setting in. Without hesitation, he bolted in the direction the guard had pointed. Blake, Sun, and Kali followed, concern etched into their features as they raced through the streets.
It took the group a few minutes to reach the marketplace, where the chaos was unfolding, and the scene before them made their blood run cold. A man stood at the center of a grueso tableau, his face had red jagged marks like fla. Around him lay the lifeless bodies of a dozen Faunus, their blood pooling in the dirt. The stench of death hung thick in the air. Surrounding the man were more ard Faunus, trembling but resolute, their weapons aid at him despite the clear fear in their eyes. So of them bore fresh wounds—missing limbs hastily wrapped in bloodied cloth, their pain visible but overridden by desperation. The man looked at the newcors with an emotionless expression, his cold, unyielding gaze eting theirs. His stance was relaxed, almost casual, but it carried the weight of quiet, deadly power.
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Soti earlier, Crimson arrived in nagerie aboard a ship, the sea breeze tangling his hair as the vessel slowly docked. As he disembarked, he felt the sharp stares of the faunus onboard. Their gazes were filled with raw hatred, the remnants of battles not long ago clinging to their expressions. Many of them were bandaged, so with deep gashes that spoke of recent struggle. The ship's captain, an older faunus with a grizzled appearance, stood at the front of the group. He was missing an arm, and the vacant space where his eyes once were was covered by a thick bandage, giving him a ghostly presence. The crew remained silent, and their eyes followed Crimson's every step as he left the ship.
Unfazed, Crimson walked through the streets of nagerie, a sense of purpose in his stride. Faunus stopped in their tracks, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of him. So pointed, whispering to one another with expressions of anger, others recoiling in fear, while a few stared with a quiet curiosity, perhaps wondering what had brought a human to their territory. Crimson ignored them all, letting the stares wash over him like water off a stone. He was on a mission, and nothing would deter him from it.
As he continued through the town, he eventually reached the heart of nagerie, an open marketplace bustling with activity. Dozens, if not hundreds, of eyes turned towards him, but the crowd didn't break its flow. Vendors hawked their goods, children ran through the streets, and rchants exchanged goods, but there was a palpable tension in the air. Crimson could feel the eyes on him, judging him, but he gave them little attention. His eyes were fixed on his goal: finding the White Fang.
Before he could proceed further, a squad of nagerie's guards arrived, their armor clinking as they moved towards him. The leader, a broad-shouldered faunus with sharp, piercing eyes, stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "What is a human doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and laced with suspicion.
Crimson remained calm, his expression cold and distant. "I'm looking for the White Fang's location," he replied, his tone steady. "I have personal business with them. Once that's done, I'll leave. If you want to save everyone ti, just point to their headquarters."
The leader's lips curled into a sneer, and he let out a low chuckle. "The White Fang doesn't deal with humans," he scoffed, his hand moving to rest on Crimson's shoulder, pressing with the intent to intimidate. "You'd best co with us quietly, if you know what's good for you."
Crimson's gaze hardened, his jaw setting as he sighed deeply. "I gave you a chance," he murmured, his voice carrying a faint trace of disappointnt. "But none of you appreciate rcy."
Before the guard leader could retort, Crimson's katana flashed out with deadly precision. The leader's hand, still gripping Crimson's shoulder, was severed from his arm in one swift motion. Blood splattered across the cobblestone streets, and the severed hand clattered to the ground with a sickening thud.
Crimson stood unmoving, his katana still unsheathed, a red mark now appearing on his face. His voice was slow, deliberate, and cold. "I'm here for the White Fang," he said, his tone void of emotion. "You can show the way, or you can die. It changes nothing."
The crowd erupted into chaos. Screams filled the air as people scattered in every direction, fleeing from the scene. The sounds of feet pounding against the ground mixed with the shrill cries of terror. From all directions, the guards who had been stationed nearby and combat-ready nagerie citizens rushed to the scene, weapons drawn, determined to deal with the human who dared to challenge them. But Crimson didn't flinch. He stood there, an unmoving figure, as the guards charged toward him.
What followed was swift and brutal. Crimson moved like a force of nature, his katana slicing through the air, cutting down his attackers with a precision born of centuries of fighting and killing. The guards and combatants who dared to face him were little more than targets, and within monts, dozens had fallen. So were dead, others gravely injured.
As more groups continued to arrive, one group appeared and attracted his attention. Crimson's eyes narrowed as he recognized so of them, his body remaining still, his stance unshaken. His gaze locked onto one person in particular.
The black-haired girl, Blake, stood at the forefront of the group. Her eyes t Crimson's, and for a mont, there was only silence between them. Crimson's posture was relaxed, yet his words carried a chilling weight as he spoke to her.
"It's been a while, Blake" Crimson said, his voice cold but calm. "Ruby and Yang have been devastated since you left. Especially Yang... she felt betrayed after nearly dying and sacrificing her fingers to protect you." His eyes pierced Blake's, the hint of accusation lingering in his words. "I wonder... if you even care."
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