Disclaimer: I do not own Overlord or RWBY. Both belong to Murayama-sensei and RoosterTeeth respectively.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Volume 1: The God of Death

PROLOGUE

"A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,
I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,
That made my love so high and me so low."
-William Blake

Vacuo was a giant dustball. At some point in time, many years ago, it had oasis' scattered across its vast desert. It's said that one could feel at peace at these momentary safe havens, for rich springs of water offered reprieve for wary travelers. Of course, this was assuming the Grimm did not come for you while you were resting. Sadly, these beautiful patches of safe haven had all dried out when Mantle had invaded and turned Vacuo into one giant mining operation, drilling and mining for valuable resources.

In the present day, out of the four Kingdoms that dotted the continents of Remnant, Vacuo was considered to be the most dangerous place to live. Not because of the Grimm who hid beneath the sand or roamed the desert in search of their next meal, but because of the lawlessness that was the many settlements scattered across the deserts of Vacuo. There was an unwritten rule in the kingdom that, if you could survive here, you were welcome here. It didn't matter if you were Faunus or Human.

The only real place with any sort of order was Shade Academy. One of the prestigious combat academies meant to train the next generation of Huntresses and Huntsmen. The next generation of warriors who would defend humanity from the Grimm.

Originally, Qrow Branwen didn't enjoy that prospect. Given his upbringing, who would want to protect people who were weak? But as time went by, he started to move past that mentality and look at the bigger picture. That there was something worth protecting. It was also why he was in Vacuo and not back at Patch, working as a teacher.

Well, not that he was complaining.

Only good thing in Patch is Firecracker, Ruby, and the Headmistress. Qrow thought as he walked through the somewhat vacant streets of one of the many settlements near the Huntsman Academy. One hand was close to his flask and the other was firmly held on the grip of his Harbinger, ready to whip it out at a moment's notice. This place is a giant sausage fest. Not a single decent woman here.

He sighed deeply. What wouldn't he give for some quality time with a cute girl that would be willing to put up with an old geezer like him? Scratch that last part, though. He wasn't a geezer. He was still in his thirties dammit.

The only reason Qrow was still in Vacuo was because he was finishing up his errand. Ozpin had asked him to look into something. The usual stuff that needed to be investigated. Reports of mysterious figures, leads on the Maidens, stuff like that. Most of them tended to be a bust, but he had some success lately. A few months ago, he ran into Salem's adorable brats.

Downside was that Amber was now in a coma. It was just another instance in which Qrow cursed his Semblance.

But back to the point. Since then, things had been silent. He searched everywhere, with Vacuo being his latest stop. One report that Ozpin gave him made him a little interested. In this settlement, there was apparently a woman who had threatened the local bartender, and she hadn't left since. She made no moves, but her appearance was well-known to both Ozpin himself and Qrow.

The shabby man was interested in knowing why she was in Vacuo, when she almost never left Mistral on account of her "family." When she left, it was usually because something had caught her interest or because there was something that that she thought would be beneficial for the tribe. And even then, she only strayed as far as the outskirts of Vacuo's neighbors. She also didn't do anything that would put her at risk. Well, more than it usually would.

It was hard for people to not know who she was, considering there were more than a few wanted posters of her plastered across the wooden billboards in Mistral.

Qrow eventually arrived at his destination. His nose wrinkled in disgust when he smelled bile and something rotten flooding his nostrils. Love this place already. Hand still on Harbinger, he entered the bar. It was practically empty in spite of the fact that it was night time; a perfect time for anyone and everyone to get wasted, himself included. There were pools of unknown liquid soaking into the wooden slots that made up the floor, discarded food rotting away in between cracks and grooves. A fight had occurred recently, evident by the demolished chairs and tables that were scattered across the room. There were uncleaned stains on the floor as well as on the wall. A few of those stains looked red.

Behind the counter was the bartender, who's face seemed flushed and sweaty while he absent-mindedly cleaned a glass cup. Sitting on a stool and downing an entire glass of whiskey was a familiar woman in red armor and jet-black hair, a katana sitting comfortably at her hip.

Qrow stared in slight surprise. In all the time he's known this woman, she never drank unless it was on occasion. Shrugging, he approached. The woman gave a brief glance over her shoulder, but she quickly lost interest before she could actually see him and went back to her glass. Qrow slid into the seat next o her, making himself comfortable before looking at the bartender.

"Whiskey. Light ice."

"C-coming right up..."

As the bartender quickly worked on his drink, Qrow glanced at the woman. Her hair was disheveled, her face sickly pale with dark rings under her eyes. He wrinkled his nose, noting how the air seemed a bit more foul around her.

"You look like shit."

"Fuck off, Qrow." Raven Branwen, his twin sister and leader of the Branwen Bandit Tripe snapped as she took another shot of her glass. The liquid slid down her throat easily before she filled it up again. "I'm not in the mood."

"Wasn't joking. You smell like shit, too."

Raven paused. The glass barely touched her lips. "...I feel like shit."

"I bet. How long have you been in here?"

"Dunno. Don't care. Just leave me to my drinking in peace."

"About that, what's the occasion?"

"What makes you think its any of your business?"

"Well, for starters, you never venture this far out from Mistral, and even when you do you only go as far as the outskirts of nearby Kingdoms. And you only drink when something good's happened. And given how I've been hearing about how you've been causing hell here lately, and that those stains look awfully red..."

Raven clicked her tongue, but she didn't answer. She just went in for another drink. Qrow thought he might as well wait patiently for her to answer, or just find a moment to pry them out of here. The bartender gently put the drink down on the counter. Qrow thanked him and brought the alcoholic beverage to his lips, only to frown.

Note to self. Vacuo whiskey tastes like donkey piss.

Well, beggars couldn't be choosers. And besides, booze was booze.

Raven downed the glass again in record time. She went to pour more, but saw that it was empty. Scowling, she threw the bottle over her shoulder. His semblance must have kicked in because the bottle smashed into the face of some poor schmuck that was looking inside, shattering upon impact. Some of the shards pierced into his skin. One dug into his eye, scarring him in the process. He fell to the ground and began to wail loudly, cradling his sliced face.

Only one or two people came to help him. The rest looked on with indifference and wary while glancing at the bar.

"Another beer!"

"M-miss, at this rate, you'll give yourself alcohol poisoning..."

Click.

The sound of a katana being drawn caused the bartender to freeze up. He quickly snatched the closest bottle near him and slammed it on the counter. Raven cut the top off with her katana before sliding it back into its sheath, and went back to drinking. Looking more closely, Qrow saw her expression. She was bitter, angry, exhausted and most of all tired.

Raven was running on fumes. The only thing keeping her awake was the alcohol's foul taste and her own will. Any lesser person probably would be out on the floor passed out six ways from Sunday. Seeing this, Qrow's face scrunched into confusion and worry.

Raven was a warrior. She prided herself about this fact. She thought she was the strongest out of everyone in Team STRQ, and her teammates knew it. Even Summer, a woman who could make Grimm shit themselves just by glaring at them, had trouble matching her. For her to look like this, something must have shaken her.

Qrow had only seen her look so spooked once, and it had been when they learned about Salem. Then again, the same could be said about himself as well and anyone who ever learned about that woman. After all, learning that the Grimm were being led by some witch, who had been alive for countless years and wanting to ensure humanity went out with a whimper, would freak out anyone.

But this was different. Raven didn't look shaken up. She looked...broken. Her eyes had become dull and lifeless. There was nothing in those crimson red orbs anymore. No spark or drive to become stronger.

She took a drink of her whiskey before she set it down on the counter, hanging her head low. When she spoke up, her voice had turned almost dead silent.

"...hey, Qrow. What is strength?" Qrow raised an eyebrow at her. She didn't wait for him to give her an answer and continued. "Do you remember what it was like, growing up in the tribe? I remember. I remember every single goddamn day. How our parents would beat us when we cried or when we did something wrong. How they broke our bones or bashed in our faces when we slacked off. When they sent us off to Beacon just so we could learn how to kill Huntsman, I thought I knew what it was like to be strong. And after Beacon, I felt stronger than ever before."

"You goin' somewhere with this, sis?"

Raven ignored him. "I left behind my own daughter and husband, just so I could focus on getting stronger. And when it came time to take over the tribe, I made damn sure everybody knew. I even went so far as to kill a stupid little girl who didn't know how to use her power right, just to make sure they didn't let their power go to waste."

Qrow narrowed his eyes at this. Ozpin had mentioned that there was a fleeting rumor of how the Spring Maiden was somewhere in Mistral. Of course, Qrow had tried to look for her and he got a few leads to go off of, but they all had the same conclusion: that the Spring Maiden was in the clutches of the Branwen Tribe. If his sister was implying what he thought she was, then his search had ended. He just hoped that wasn't the case.

Raven stared at her glass, her soulless eyes staring back at her before she pulled back and laughed. It was empty and hollow. It didn't even sound like a laugh at all. Just a hoarse mockery.

"But you know what? Strength and power? It's all...worthless. It doesn't mean a damned thing."

Qrow stared at her in confusion. "Raven, no offense here, but what the hell are you saying?"

"I'm saying you can train for years all you'd like and it would mean nothing." Raven said simply, turning to look at him for the first time since he walked into the bar. "Hell, you could train under Ozpin himself for a hundred years, and it wouldn't make a difference. I saw what true power is, and..." She stopped suddenly as fear crawled into her body, shaking uncontrollably. The glass in her hand trembled. "I'm a coward. Always have been. When I found out what Salem was and what she could do, first thing I did when I had the chance was to run as far away as possible. I even left my own partner to die just to get away, and to this day, I still don't regret a single damned second of it."

Her breath was becoming hot. Her skin was turning paler, and the shaking was growing worse. Qrow had seen veteran Huntsmen with similar looks. So horribly shaken by their experiences that they were but shells of their former selves. When you looked at their eyes, all you would see are husks with no life in them. Shellshocked and horrified. Say one thing and chances were they'd go off the rails and shake uncontrollably.

Raven looked like one of them. But Qrow was in disbelief. He knew Raven well enough to know that she wasn't the type to get scared easily. In his mind, she was a cold swordsman with a code of honor, however skewed it may have been. That woman wasn't the one sitting in front of him. This was someone else. Someone he didn't recognize.

"But do you know what I've realized, Qrow?" Raven's face twisted. A smile that didn't belong on her face touched her lips. Her eyes were those of a madman. "It wasn't Salem that I should have been scared of. From the very beginning, I shouldn't even have considered her something to be terrified of."

"Raven..." Qrow swallowed. "What the hell are you talking about? Speak sense! What did you see?"

"Death. I saw death appear in front of me, and it showed me just how weak I was." Raven laughed again. "Can you imagine that? All these years, honing my skills, killing just to survive, stealing a Maiden's powers… And it was all for nothing. Everything I've done up to this point has just been a waste of time."

She fell quiet again. She downed her glass and then moved on to the bottle. She tilted her head back, downing its contents in under ten seconds. The drinker in Qrow was impressed, as even he would have found it difficult to pull off. With a final gulp, Raven let the bottle drop to the floor. It rolled away from her stool and went into a corner.

"...they're gone."

"What?"

"The Branwen Tribe."

"What about the Tribe?"

"It's all gone, Qrow. All of them. There's no such thing as a Branwen Tribe anymore." His eyes widened in shock. Something was caught in his throat. "They're all dead. They died in an instant. At least it was quick. Happened in the blink of an eye. They probably didn't feel a damned thing."

Dead? The Tribe was destroyed? Under Raven's watch? Had this come from the lips of a random stranger, Qrow would have laughed and dragged them along for a drink and then ask where they came up with such a stupid joke. The tribe weren't saints by any means, and they weren't weaklings either. The moment Raven replaced the old leader, they had become a terrifying force to be reckoned with. Even veteran Huntsmen would have had trouble fighting them.

Hearing Raven say the tribe was destroyed, and apparently with such ease… Qrow could scarcely believe her. Yet the fact that she was right here in front of him, a shadow of the woman that was once one of the strongest Huntresses in all of Remnant, telling him this herself, meant that this was no lie or elaborate ruse. She was telling the truth.

The people who had raised him, a den chock full of the scum of the earth, was wiped off the map.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Raven asked with that broken smile of hers. "All of this was just one giant waste of time. I shouldn't have run away. I should have just let that monster kill me instead of just wallowing around in a bar, drinking my ass off. Everything just seems so...pointless, now."

"Raven." Qrow gripped his glass tightly, eyes narrowed. "What the hell happened?"

"A monster showed up during our latest raid. It killed the men I sent to raid the village. The plan was to cause some trouble, then back off and let the Grimm come in. There weren't very many in the area, so it would be easy for us to kill off the villagers and the Grimm, then take everything in the village once the dust settled. But the men I sent didn't come back. I thought the village had a Huntsmen in there, so I decided to do the job myself."

Raven recalled what happened next. How the fight between her tribe and that monster ended.

No, that's not right. Raven amended. That wasn't a fight. It was a massacre.

Despite her earlier words, not everyone in the tribe died a quick and peaceful death. Some had died brutally. Vernal's death, in particular, had been a short yet gruesome affair. She watched as her trusted student fell to her knees and then to the floor in a lifeless heap while the monster cradled what looked like her crushed heart in its grasp, blood flowing down its fingers.

A sensation washed over her. A coldness that surpassed the harsh tundras of Atlas. She couldn't breathe properly. She felt like she was suffocating. The air felt as if it had been scorched or burned.

That had been the last thing she had felt before despair had washed over her while death loomed, ready to claim its reward.

"...when you see Ozpin, tell him it isn't Salem he should be so scared of anymore." Raven said as she rose from her stool. She turned to walk away, her steps little more than staggering. "She isn't worth being terrified of. As much as I hate to admit it, it was nice seeing you again, little brother. Maybe I can die in peace?"

Qrow watched her retreat. His mind was racing before his body made the decision for him. He stood up from his stool. His semblance caused it to clatter to the floor. He stepped over it and grabbed hold of Raven, who looked at him in confusion and offered pitiful resistance.

"What're you doing…?" she slurred. Qrow gagged. When was the last time she took a bath for Gods' sake? "Let go..."

"I'm taking you to the nearest inn and washing you up." Qrow told her with finality. "You wanna die? Fine by me. But do it after you explain everything properly and after you talk with Yang."

With that the Branwen siblings left the bar. The nameless bartender let out a relieved sigh, the tension suddenly draining him dry of any energy he had left. He collapsed beneath his own weight and leaned against the cabinets behind him.

"I need a new job."

In the forests of Mistral, hidden by the surrounding trees and protected by both Grimm and unusual creatures alike, a structure stood. It was a mausoleum of sorts, infested with some vegetation that grew along the floor, crawling up the stone pillars that lined up the walkway leading into the main complex. It looked like it was thousands of years old, yet it was in pristine condition. However, its design was unfamiliar to any architect who may have discovered it. It looked like it was horribly displaced. That it didn't belong to any known time period on Remnant.

Stranger still were the creatures who roamed its grounds, prowling for intruders. They were not Grimm, for if they were, they would be pitch black with ivory masks and glowing eyes of menace. Rather, they were instead shambling corpses. Skeletons to be more exact, armed with swords, axes, bows and polearms. The Grimm who wandered close by ignored these creatures, for they felt nothing from them. They did not disturb them unless they wandered too close, and the creatures made no move to end them unless they trespassed. Thus, both sides ignored the other.

However, inside this great tomb, a great power lurked. At its depths stood a grand throne room. It's presence was far beyond anything the kings of old could muster, for its ambiance and atmosphere was otherworldly. Had anyone set foot in this sacred place, they would have felt as if they were trespassing upon holy ground. There was only a single path to take, leading up to a small flight of steps. Beyond that was a throne of incredible and intricate design. Banners hanged on the walls, bearing numerous crests.

Creatures and monsters and human-like beings gathered at the steps of the throne, all kneeling before the great figure who sat on the throne while their heads were bowed with great reverence. Power soaked the air like a flooding dam trying to be swallowed by a sponge. A towering being sat on the throne, holding in its grasp a golden staff with numerous snake heads, each holding a jewel in its mouth. This being was the source behind this great power.

It was not human. It was not Faunus. It was not Grimm.

It was death.

Ornate robes shielded its pristine white skeleton, yet the robes exposed its rib cage, revealing a pulsating red orb that throbbed as if it were a heart. A dark halo floated behind the skeleton's head, releasing an unearthly light that added to the sheer horror this creature possessed. Jeweled rings sat atop each of its bony fingers. Its skull was both human, yet not. Its jaw was sharp and narrow, teeth curved like fangs. It had no eyes. Instead, glowing red orbs shined within the darkness of its sockets.

The robed skeletal creature raised its head, as if to address someone in the room, when one of its orbs suddenly became alight and turned into a fiery streak.

No one in Remnant understood this yet. Not the civilians who lived comfortably behind the walls of their grand cities, thriving behind the protection of their guardians. Not the Faunus, who suffered from relentless discrimination and cried out in silence. Not the White Fang, who fought for their bretheren and against the opposition that plagued them. Not the woman who wished to become powerful and feared by all. Not Ozpin or Salem, who were preoccupied with their constant forever war.

No one understood that a god of death had arrived in Remnant. One that would carve its name into this world's very being.

"Now, then." Death began as it looked at the amassed crowd before it, its glowing eyes burning even hotter. "Let's begin..."

"And if thou gaze long into an abyss,
the abyss will also gaze into thee."
-Friedrich Nietzsche