RWBY: Moon Reflection-Chapter 121: Rest In Peace

After Salem's funeral, Crimson led humanity and the Faunus into the largest operation Remnant had ever seen—a global effort to eradicate the Grimm once and for all. The kingdoms united, their people working side by side. Soldiers, huntsmen, engineers, and civilians alike played their roles in reclaiming the world. It wasn't an easy task, nor was it quick.

Continent by continent, the armies of mankind pushed forward. The battlefields were both dangerous and grim, but hope burned brighter than fear. Years passed as cities expanded into once-hostile territories, turning desolate wastelands into thriving communities. The Grimm were hunted to extinction, their monstrous forms vanishing like shadows in the light of humanity's determination.

Only the Land of Darkness remained—a blackened scar on the map that had birthed the Grimm for millennia. It was a desolate, hostile place, untouched by light or warmth. Crimson led the final campaign into its depths, his crimson eyes blazing with unshaken resolve.

When the last nest was destroyed, and the final Grimm fell, the soldiers stood in silence. It was over. The threat that had loomed over them since the dawn of time was gone. Crimson turned to his comrades, his voice steady but filled with pride. "The future is ours now."

The cheers that erupted shook the earth.

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Not long after Salem's death, something incredible happened. The curse that had bound Ozpin for lifetimes was lifted.

One day, Oscar came to the others, his face alight with confusion and wonder. "I'm back," he said. "Ozpin's soul... it's gone. I can't hear him anymore."

At first, they struggled to believe it, but the truth became undeniable. The power of the maidens, once tied to the relics and the gods' influence, vanished from the world. Alongside them, the magic bestowed upon Qrow and Raven disappeared as well.

The relics, still stored in their vaults, were now beyond reach, their magic locked away forever. Without the maidens, there was no key to retrieve them. For the first time in eons, the world was free from the influence of the Brothers.

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Years passed, and with them came the slow but steady progression of time. Crimson's family grew. He and Pyrrha welcomed more children into the world, and as the decades went by, grandchildren, and eventually great-grandchildren, followed.

His days were filled with the laughter of children, the warmth of family gatherings, and the quiet pride of watching his descendants carry forward the peace he had helped build.

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Now, Crimson sat beneath the broken moon, its fractured form casting a soft, silvery glow across the world. He was 95 years old, his body worn with age but his spirit still strong. Around him, life bustled—his children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren all close by, their presence a comforting reminder that he was never alone.

But as he sat there, his thoughts wandered to those he had lost. Pyrrha, his steadfast partner, was gone. His parents, sisters, and lifelong friends had all passed on. The ache of missing them was sharp, but it didn't weigh him down. He carried their memories with him, finding solace in the family they had left behind.

"Great-Grandpa!" A little girl's voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see a young child running toward him. Her red hair shone in the moonlight, and her bright eyes sparkled with a familiar energy.

Crimson smiled, opening his arms as the girl climbed onto his lap. "What's wrong, Summer?" he asked, his voice warm.

The girl pouted, crossing her arms. "My older brother is being mean to me. I hate him!"

Crimson chuckled softly, his hand resting gently on her back. "You don't hate him," he said.

"I do!" she insisted. "He's so annoying!"

Crimson shook his head, his expression growing serious but kind. "Listen to me, Summer. He's your family. It's okay to get upset with each other sometimes, but you should never hate him. Never hate anyone."

The little girl blinked up at him, confused. "Why not?"

Crimson's gaze softened as he explained. "Because if you don't hate anyone, you'll never hate yourself. If you learn to hate others, that hate can grow inside you, and one day, it'll turn on you."

Scarlet tilted her head, clearly still puzzled by his words, but she nodded anyway. "Okay, Great-Grandpa. I won't hate him... I think."

Crimson chuckled again, ruffling her hair. "That's my girl."

The two sat in silence for a moment before Crimson looked up at the broken moon, its fractured beauty a sight he never tired of. "Isn't it beautiful?" he said softly. "Even though it's broken, it still lights up the world. It's beautiful in its own way."

Summer followed his gaze, her small face thoughtful. "Yeah, it is."

Crimson's smile lingered as he closed his eyes, his body relaxing against the chair. The memories of his life played through his mind—of battles fought, bonds formed, and a world transformed. The faces of those he had loved and lost filled his thoughts, their presence as vivid as the stars above.

And then, with the same quiet peace he had given so many others, Crimson's breathing stilled. His smile remained, even as his soul slipped away.

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The next day, the news of Crimson's passing spread across Remnant. The world mourned the loss of the man who had brought them peace, unity, and hope.

His funeral was the largest in history, with people from every kingdom coming to pay their respects. Leaders and civilians alike gathered to honor his memory, their grief tempered by gratitude for all he had done.

As the broken moon hung high in the night sky, the world remembered Crimson not as a warrior or a hero, but as the man who had carried them through the darkness and into the light.

It was a sad day for Remnant, but the legacy Crimson left behind ensured that the peace he had fought for would endure for generations to come.

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Crimson opened his eyes, the ground beneath him was water—pure and translucent, stretching endlessly in every direction. Each step he took created soft ripples, the motion peaceful yet mesmerizing. Above him, the sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with soft, wispy clouds, and the warmth of the sun bathed everything in golden light.

Crimson breathed in deeply, his spirit feeling lighter than it ever had before. He looked around, taking in the serene beauty of this boundless world, when his gaze caught sight of a figure standing in the distance.

It was Yoriichi.

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The man stood tall, his presence exuding a quiet strength. His warm smile radiated kindness, welcoming Crimson with open arms. Behind Yoriichi, more figures began to appear, one by one.

Ruby stood there, her silver eyes shining with happiness, a familiar, cheerful grin on her face. Yang stood beside her, her golden hair flowing freely as she waved at him.

And there was Pyrrha. She stood front and center, her emerald eyes locked on Crimson, her smile soft yet filled with overwhelming love.

Behind them, Qrow stood with his ever-present smirk, Tai with his warm, fatherly presence, and Summer, her silver eyes reflecting endless pride. Ironwood was there too, standing tall and proud as always, his stern demeanor softened by the warmth of his expression.

Among them was Salem. Her form was clean and pure—she stood her pale features serene and radiant. Many other friends and people he came to know and care about stood there as well.

They were all smiling at him, their faces alight with joy.

Yoriichi stepped forward, his smile never wavering. "Welcome, brother," he said, his voice calm and filled with affection.

Crimson couldn't help but smile in return. He took a step forward, then another, until his feet moved with certainty toward them. His crimson eyes shimmered as he spoke, his voice steady and full of warmth. "I'm here," he said, his tone carrying the weight of a life lived fully. "And I have so many stories to share with you."

He approached them, his heart swelling with a mixture of joy, relief, and peace. But as he reached them, a brilliant light engulfed them all.

The world seemed to dissolve into that radiant glow, and the figures of his loved ones began to fade. They disappeared, one by one, their smiles lingering even as they vanished.

Where Crimson had stood, there now stood another figure—a being of immense grace and power. The God of Harmony smiled gently, his eyes reflecting infinite wisdom.

The god stood alone in the boundless void and spoke softly, as if addressing no one but himself. "A soul, once fragmented like the moon, restored itself and illuminated the world anew."

The god turned his gaze upward, his eyes focusing on the distant heavens. Far away, the broken moon of Remnant began to shimmer faintly. Its jagged pieces, scattered across the sky for countless centuries, began to move. Slowly but surely, the fragments started to come together, light flickering across their surfaces.

Piece by piece, the moon began to restore itself, its luminous form growing whole once more.

The God of Harmony watched the transformation with a serene expression, his voice resonating through the void. "Crimson Rose, the moon finds its reflection in you—broken, yet beautifully restored."

And as the moon of Remnant shone with renewed brilliance, the world carried on, forever changed by the man who had brought light to its darkest shadows.