Honour and grimm: Rwby grimm fanfic

Born in darkness

The Grimm were enslaved, subject to Salem's will—a woman who challenged the brothers and led the Grimm to countless victories. They were not meant to rise above their station or achieve greater intelligence until many centuries later. Salem knew this well; in fact, it was precisely why she facilitated the creation of Wolf and Artemis.

She needed warriors who could truly fight Ozma and his hordes...

Salem was indifferent to the harm and anguish her actions would cause in the war; her ambitions were vast and would not be thwarted, regardless of the consequences.

She however wanted more, more powerful warriors and fighters who could assist in the war...

The outcome was predictable: many Grimm would succumb to the prowess of Huntresses and Huntsmen, as humans and Faunus possessed Aura and significant resources. Despite the lesser Grimm's advantage in numbers, humanity was fated to survive, much like cockroaches, overcoming numerous setbacks, with a tenacious minority consistently triumphing.

Only Salem's most elite grimm survived all that was thrown their way

Leaving her throne room and wandering the dim, empty halls of her castle, Salem's anticipation grew with each step. It had been at least two centuries since she last created a Grimm by herself. She remembered well the cost of such creation; Hammer and Artemis had been immensely powerful beings to summon, and their creation had sapped some of her strength.

Yet the reward far outweighed the risk...

Wolf and Artemis, despite the substantial investment of resources and magic required for their creation, became invaluable assets. Wolf, ever relentless, spearheaded the assaults, carrying out Salem's commands with deadly accuracy. Artemis, usually quiet and collected, shone as a spy rather than a fighter. Nevertheless, she was significantly more formidable than any human or Faunus hunter. Her singular power to remain undying as long as Grimm existed elevated her to the pinnacle of the food chain.

As Salem roamed her castle, she gazed upon the shattered moon of Remnant. All semblance of joy and excitement had vanished, supplanted by an overwhelming fury and rage. The brothers had wrought destruction far beyond mere ruin for her.

The brothers could have easily resurrected Ozma, permitting him and Salem to live out their lives together. Salem's skepticism about their divinity grew as they coldly refused her sole request, revealing a nature she deemed cruel and callous. To Salem, the brothers were not deities but demons masquerading as gods.

Everything that happened was their fault...

Salem understood that lamenting the past was futile. No matter the extent of power she amassed or how fervently she wished for her mistakes to be undone, she lacked the might to alter what had been.

She had to keep pushing forth, no matter how much pain she must endure...

After several minutes, Salem arrived at the dungeons beneath her castle. Before her was a weathered door, its surface etched with ancient magical runes of her own making. With a self-satisfied smile, Salem lifted her right hand and called forth her most potent magic.

The runes started to vanish, melting into the air as if they were mere wisps of fog. Salem permitted herself a slight smile while she gently pushed the door open, flinching a bit from the foul odor wafting from the dungeons. Being a Grimm, she was intensely conscious of the dense aura of negativity that pervaded the atmosphere, recognizing well its origin.

These very dungeons had broken so many of Ozma's spies...

Salem steered her thoughts away and began her descent down the spiral staircase, her gentle footsteps the only company on her path. As she ventured further into the depths of the dungeon, the air grew dense with negativity, yet Salem's determination was unshaken. The overwhelming emotions around her would only strengthen her resolve.