The Legacies Left Behind

Upon the grassy cliff rests dozens of tents scattered across the terrain with only one issue at its hand. Where none are alive to make it a lively denizen. Crimson liquid murks the scarlet-dyed grass, as if the storm had brought a different kind of tear in its passing.

Down the edge of the cliff where the wall is dead of life, only to reveal its rocky edges, march Grimms of millions. Of dark birds that are easily capable of blocking the sun out of the sky, coasting across the hazel dark skies. Beowolves to the Deathstalkers to the millions of others that hide from records of Humanity, they trample the grassless surface of Remnant to leave the misty air composed of dirt.

Beneath them rests the bones of those who have fallen. Bones to carcasses that loiter around, weapons that rest away into the soil for eternity or stabbed into the surface to impose as a gravestone.

They all stop in their movement of downfall, avian Grimm reducing the pace of their flapping wings and those on the ground turning their head all in unison. Upon that cliff's edge stands a knight in white armor, a gold scarf wrapped around the neck that bristled amongst the rugged terrain's winds, white shield and sword propped infront of them, imposed as a cane for them with two lunar cresent arcs as its symbol. Their helmet on and armor fit in place, the white knight's gauntlet lifts the sword and shield, the shield folding into what seemed to be a sheath that held the mighty blade.

A foot hovers just off the edge until it descends, causing the knight to lean and fall forward. Instead, gravity seems to uphold its laws as they walk down the wall calmly, their manner composed in their advance. As if they were patient, the monsters of Grimm stop to turn and face the lone wolf.

The knight reached the bottom, sheathed sword clasped to their waist belt and scarf smacking against the current. From the army of the darkest of shadows, five silhouette creatures in the appearance of scorpions depart from the main body and engage the character. Sizes beyond the normal scaling of an adult elephant, perhaps two elephants would do its size. Their golden stingers arched in the direction of the knight, their legs quake Remnant in their approach. The lone figure merely stood in their place, still as they are being a statue.

The golden scarf loses its animation, the wind dying away as the material falls flat against the back of the knight's white armor…

A white dot floats down from the skies. The knight craned their neck slightly to look up to this falling dot, holding out their palm and watching it fall. Gently falling onto the knight's hand, it remained, denying to vanish as it rested in the knight's cradling palm. Its white intricate lines connecting into patterns until meeting the outer ring. Fingers curled around the flake, the knight looked up to the skies.

It begun to snow.

Circles within the sky begin to appear, initiating as small circles of dots to the expansion of massive glyphs with complex symbols and lines drawn into them, filling the entire sky above the knight in bright energy. Hexagons quickly drew across the air, outlining the circles of glyphs. Beams of light begin to shine down unto the approaching Grimm, completely covering them in its narrowing light until disintegrating into nothing but mere dust.

A hand clapped against the knight's shoulder pauldron, the knight continuing to gaze to the skies as a smaller figure walked by them. In white attire along with her off-set ponytail hair and snow-white eyes, she donned a tailcoat that reached down to the back of her knees, cerulean shoulder cape, royal combat heels of glass snow and intricately detailed dress and skirt of snow-pattern linings, the pale-skin woman gazes out to the dark horizon. With a swish of her hand across the air, a vein of white sprouts from her palm and across the air in a linear shape that eventually expanded into a rapier-akin weapon, also wrapping around her feeble arms were light gauntlets of her own with the symbol of a snowflake on the back of its hand.

The battleground became an arena, the audience being the Grimm that stood idly by or afloat in the skies with the white knight. The woman's pearlscent eyes dart to the side, the butt of the rapier swinging upwards promptly and meeting the bottom jaw of a beowolf, forcing its mouth shut as another came from the other end. Before removing the butt of the hilt to counterattack the second beowolf, her delicate pale fingers wrapped around the hit beowolf's jaw joint and forced it around her. With a swift motion and use of momentum, her Grimm projectile was launched against the other one, but this time, with a red glyph embedded on its chest. A violent hue glew from the glyph before causing the two Grimm to explode into flames, becoming nothing but charred pieces of its black essence.

Her heel kicking off the ground, she dances across the battlefield, avoiding the two golden stingers that had jabbed themselves into her former location. The Deathstalkers retract their stingers, quickly realigning themselves to face their prey and marched again, their stingers lunging once again. She raises her blade once again, its slim blade reflecting the side of the stinger, causing it to fly off course as she sidestepped to avoid the second one. Within momentum of her sidestep, she pushes off to the side and spins, her motion of dancing following the edge of her weapon as it draws a white line across the air, tracing its pathway. Quickly, her blade severed the stingers from their joints, causing the Deathstalkers to retract until she bowed forward at the end of her dance, acting as if she were giving an air-kiss, only to freeze the Deathstalkers in their positions.

The woman turned around, this session of her battle ending as it is while the frozen Grimm shattered into pieces. The white orbs of the woman widening, her head turns to face the destruction to see a massive fist of a twenty foot ape-like Grimm wearing a bone mask being sent to smash into her.

The fist made contact, but only for the ape to realize its fist had hit an unintended target.

The golden scarf of the knight lightly brushes against the wind once again, the knight covered in snow. They open their hand from which the snowflake had landed into, only to let go of a red rose petal as it flew into the wind.

Standing between the fist and white woman, there intercepted a woman who donned blackest of the reaper's mantle that was sown into a dark frilly skirt, shirt and a red cape. Palm stretched out to stop the blunt force that would've been done by the ape. The reaper's silver orbs gaze into the red eyes behind the mask. Her other hand raises to her hood, taking it off as the material morphed into a massive mechanical shift of a pole. Both ends of the pole quickly unclasp its hinges, one end becoming the curving line of a scythe's weapon and the other being a longsword capable of retracting and being extracted.

The reaper spun her scythe, generating torrents of wind, and turned on her heel of her boot to trail into a semi-circle, one passing of her windmill going through the wrist of the massive Grimm. With a promptly loud thump of the Grimm's entire hand, the woman glared and vanished into a cloud of roses in her wake. The momentum of her windmill continuing as she zipped around the Grimm's arm in a blur of a motion until reaching its head.

It begins to fall unto its knees, its bare sharp teeth reflecting the skylight until it broke apart into nothing but meaty blocks meeting the ground and sinking. The reaper turned around, facing the white knight and the woman of snow. Receiving a response from the one she had protected, it was a brief nod.

A motion of the pearlscent woman's hands danced across the air, making multitudes of glyphs around the reaper, whom was currently walking towards the entire army of Grimm. The longsword extracts from its lock at the bottom of her scythe with a loud 'shink'. Her body leaned forward, breaking into an instant dash. The opposing army replied with their own dash of beowolves and boarbatusks, the front lines jumping into the air and the others maintaining ground to encircle the red death.

She flicked the weight of her sword-scythe to her other palm, utilizing the swing into a full revolution as her arm swipes diagonally through the space. A cyclone of flames burst around her in response, disintegrating her surrounders. Still, they continue their pursuit as she swings her weapon from all directions. Her scythe piercing through a chest of a boarbatusk and angling the weapon to level the side of the scythe's blade to the ground. Pressuring her strength in acceleration, the Grimm's carcass became encased in ice.

From the distance, the glyph caster clapped her hands together audibly as the glyphs around the reaper brighten. The scratches to full-bashes the reaper landed on each Grimm, the ice had become contagious, slowly expanding from their wounds until they were completely encased and continued like an infection. The mist of ice shards filling the air around, a portion of the battlefield became the land of ice.

The tip of the reaper's scythe tapped against the cold solid ground, causing the ice beneath it to slowly crack and spread apart.

One second.

-Two seconds.

To the hundreds of figures turned to ice statues, they shatter into a cold mist that blends with the gusts of wind from the battle. A huff exhausts itself from the two females as they glance to the remaining thousands or millions of Grimm left.

A sound of metal gently clanging against metal was heard, coming from the White Knight that now stood infront of them. Sword propped as a cane as they keep their composure, raising a hand to motion the two fighters to withdraw. Their eyes trail onto the scarf the knight had worn, watching as an aura trickled off the material in forms of small flames.

Explosions of fire erupt in the distance, stretching from the western edge within the horde of Grimm all the way to the eastern in a matter of seconds. As the Grimm turn away to face their new foe. The cracking of knuckles sounded from the middle, fire sprouting from her fists and the outline of her body as a long-haired blonde entered a brawler's stance. Eyes glowing with a crimson tint, she wore brown gold-detailed boots that ran up to her mid-calf, shorts that elevated just above her knee, a longcoat with flame designs at the bottom end of it, as the bracelets around her wrists enlargened, plates unfolding from inside as it expanded out to cover her hands with gold-embroidered gauntlets.

'Revving' up her fists for a battle, steam exhausts from the knuckles. A Nevermore descended down from the skies, perching its talons into the ground infront of her. Its beak gapping into open as it screeched a high-pitched scream. The blonde brawler's fists grasped the feathers beneath the avian's neck and yanked it, forcing it completely to succumb to the ground. Raising her leg, she sent her own gauntlet to smash against the heel. The gauntlet promptly changed mechanisms, unfolding from around her fist and transferred itself to her foot to become blunt hammer-ended greaves. A battle-ready foot curb-stomping into it, steam hissed dangerously from the bottom sole until the reknowned durability of a Nevermore's beak had shattered.

The remaining gauntleted fist shot out to her side, immediately finding grip around a beowolf's throat. Her eyes examined the victim until smashing the beowolf into the ground and set it entire aflame. Within a flick of the expunging flame, the former beowolf had been smithed to become a shard of a bone-mask.

As night begins to fall, the light will fade away and the darkness will rise. The brawler's eyes peer up to a full moon that lights the way. Soon, the moon is covered by the fleet of avian Grimm that fill the air…

Gray arcs streak across the darkest of nights, the fleet giving way as pieces begun to descend of divided Grimm. Landing onto the ground adjacent from the brawler, ears of a cat and golden feline eyes peer up to her enemies. Long, straightened pitch-black hair that blends in with her dark tattered trenchcoat. Strapped to her side, a magnum wrapped with a coiling black ribbon. At the opposite end of the ribbon; a katana that enshrouds itself with the shadows. Magnum poised to her front, aimed at the thousands of Grimm that wait…

The end became nigh.