RWBY: Moon Reflection-Chapter 113: The Demon Tale

Crimson’s voice was calm and steady as he began, his gaze fixed on Salem. The stillness in the chamber amplified his words, pulling Salem into the tale he wove.

"In a world far from Remnant," Crimson began, "there was a man who wished to be a great swordsman, the strongest of all. He trained relentlessly, dedicating every waking moment to honing his craft. His life revolved around one goal: to surpass all others and achieve greatness."

Salem’s eyes narrowed slightly, her attention focused on every word.

"The man had a twin brother," Crimson continued, his tone growing somber. "Unlike the man, the brother despised violence. He loved peace and sought a life free of conflict. Yet, despite his gentle nature, he bore a jagged mark of flame on his face. People whispered that it was a curse—a sign of a painful end."

Salem’s gaze flicked briefly to Crimson’s marked face before returning to his eyes. She remained silent, letting him continue.

"That world," Crimson said, "was plagued by monsters. They were demons—creatures of nightmare that fed on human flesh. They were far stronger than humans, and only a few could stand against them. The fight against these demons required extraordinary strength and skill."

His voice took on a wistful tone as he spoke of the brother. "The pacifist brother, who had never trained, once took up a sword. When he did, he became a force of nature. Demons fell before him like insects. His strength was unmatched, his skill unparalleled. The man, who had devoted his entire life to the sword, burned with jealousy. His brother had everything the man had ever wished for—effortlessly."

Salem’s expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—recognition, perhaps.

"One day," Crimson continued, "the brother shared his secret. He revealed that he had been using a breathing technique called Sun Breathing. It was a technique so powerful, so refined, that none could match it. Everyone, including the man, tried to emulate it, hoping to achieve the same greatness. But the technique was too advanced, too demanding. No one could master it."

Crimson’s voice grew heavier. "So, the man and others began developing their own techniques. The man created a breathing technique of his own. It was not as powerful as Sun Breathing, but it was second only to it. He called it Moon Breathing."

At this, Salem’s eyes sharpened, the connection dawning on her. She had known that Crimson’s strength came from a unique technique he used, and she knew the name ’Moon Breathing’.

"Over time," Crimson continued, "as people became more skilled in their techniques, marks began to appear on their faces. With these marks came unimaginable strength. Demons began to cower at the names of those who bore them. The man had jagged flame marks similar to his brother and believed that, at last, he could surpass his brother."

She didn’t interrupt, though her eyes lingered on the jagged mark across his face.

Crimson paused, his gaze distant. "But then one of them died at the age of twenty-five. Soon, another followed. One by one, those who awakened the mark began to die. It became clear that the mark was a double-edged sword. It granted incredible power, but it also guaranteed an early death."

Salem’s expression remained calm as she listened with interest. The tale was new and unique even for someone as old as her.

"The man didn’t fear death," Crimson said, "but he feared dying without becoming the strongest. He couldn’t bear the thought of never surpassing his brother. One day, he encountered the Demon King—the greatest source of evil in that world. They fought a little, but then the Demon King made him an offer."

Crimson’s voice dropped to a whisper. "The Demon King promised to make him a demon, granting him immortality. He would live beyond the age of twenty-five, free from the curse of the mark."

Salem’s eyes narrowed. "And the price?" she asked softly.

"In return, the man would lose his humanity and become the Demon King’s business partner, aiding him in his war against the demon slayers and achieving his goals." Crimson said. "The man would forget who he was. His memories would burn away, leaving only his obsession. The man accepted. He cast aside his humanity, abandoned his family, his wife, his child. He burned his memories and his past. That day, the first Upper Moon Demon was born."

Crimson’s voice grew colder. "The demon was named Kukushibo—the Black Death Eyes. A six-eyed monster wielding the second strongest breathing technique. Kukushibo was deadlier and more dangerous even than the Demon King."

Salem’s expression tightened. She could sense the weight of the story now, the gravity of what man had become.

"For decades," Crimson said, "Kukushibo roamed the world, killing all who stood in his way. Even the strongest demon slayers fell before him. The humans removed his name and technique from their history in fear and hate of what he has become."

Salem’s face betrayed a flicker of surprise. To remove the name and act as if it was never there painted a clear picture of the sheer fear and hate he inspired.

Crimson continued. "One day," he said, "Kukushibo encountered his brother again. The brother was now an elderly, fragile man. Kukushibo felt both contempt and pity. He had remained strong, while his brother had grown weak with age. On the other hand, the brother cried seeing Kukushibo, feeling sorry for what he became. Then the brother’s demeanor changed."

Crimson’s voice trembled slightly. "Bursting with power, the brother attacked. He was too fast, too strong. He cut Kukushibo instantly, and for a moment, Kukushibo felt death approaching. But it didn’t come. His brother had died in that moment of old age. If he had one breath left, Kukushibo would have perished…. No, If his brother hadn’t shown mercy, Kukushibo would have been dead. To the very end, his brother continued to transcends the laws of nature"

Salem’s expression was unreadable, but her silence spoke volumes.

"In that moment," Crimson said, "Kukushibo knew he had lost to his brother forever. No matter what he became, he would always be the inferior one. And with the mercy his brother had shown him, he knew he would never die with honor. On that day, Kukushibo made a decision: if he couldn’t die with honor, he would never die."

Crimson’s voice grew colder. "For centuries, Kukushibo roamed the land, killing like no other demon. He slaughtered tens of thousands, devoured all men, women, and children. He devoured their flesh and blood, young and old alike. He became a nightmare, a manifestation of fear itself. His mere presence made the bravest warriors tremble, not understanding why. Demons avoided him. Even the Demon King felt unease and fear in his presence"

The scale of Kukushibo’s atrocities seemed staggering, even to her. Salem’s face hardened. "Were you defeated?" she asked.

Crimson slowly. "One day, Kukushibo faced four extraordinary demon slayers. Each of them was unique, their skills unparalleled, they were the best among humans in centuries. They fought together, seamlessly. Two of them died, but the last two managed to behead Kukushibo."

Salem’s eyes narrowed slightly. "So you lost in the end?"

"Beheading wasn’t enough," Crimson said. "Kukushibo regenerated and he evolved further as a demon. His strength grew to a new level, but he became a monster so hideous that even the worst Grimm would pale in comparison."

Salem’s lips pressed into a thin line. She couldn’t imagine such a creature, and she didn’t want to.

"Kukushibo was about to kill the last two slayers," Crimson said, "when he saw his reflection in their blade. He froze. For the first time in centuries, he saw it….I saw what I had become. I asked myself if that was me, I asked myself what have I done. I felt nothing but regret. And in that moment, I began to die of my own accord."

Crimson’s voice softened. "I recalled my brother. I remembered the love and hatred I had felt for him. And I still remember my last thoughts: I could never grab hold of anything. Anything at all. I abandoned my home. I abandoned my wife and children. I abandoned my humanity. I cut down my descendants and abandoned being a swordsman. But even all that wasn’t enough. Why could I not see the same world that you did, my brother? Why could I not leave anything behind? Why in the world was I ever born?"

The room fell silent. Salem stared at Crimson, her expression unreadable. Despite the absurdity of the tale, she found herself believing every word.

Crimson’s voice softened as he continued his tale. "One day, I opened my eyes, and I was an infant again," he began, his tone devoid of emotion. "I had a new family, and I didn’t know why. After everything I had done and lived through, I was tired. Tired of living, tired of existing. I didn’t want to live another life. I wanted to die."

Salem’s eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressing together in an almost imperceptible frown. For the first time, she felt a flicker of understanding for the man before her. His words carried a weight she couldn’t ignore.

"I grew," Crimson continued, "and as soon as I was old enough, strong enough, to end myself, I found I couldn’t do it. I thought of my brother, the pain I put him through. I thought of this new family I was born into—a family that had done nothing to deserve the misery my death might bring them. The guilt weighed on me. It was unbearable to think of repeating my past. So, I made a decision."

He paused, his marked face cast in shadows, and Salem could almost see his thoughts. "I decided that I’d play the part of the good child. I told myself, ’Just a few decades more. What’s a few more decades in the grand scheme of things?’" His lips twisted in a bitter smile. "But my actions weren’t driven by love or care. They were driven by guilt. I didn’t truly care about that family. I smiled and acted nicely to them, it was all me playing pretend, none of it was sincere"

Salem tilted her head, her expression unreadable, but her silence spoke volumes. She wanted to hear more.

"When my mother died," Crimson continued, his voice dropping, "I felt pity for her death, but not true sadness. I thought if I just took care of everything she did that would be enough and that would be my purpose in this life. A way to repay some of the harm I caused in the last one and a tribute for the brother I lost, I lived for his memory"

He shifted, his gaze distant. "But then something unexpected happened. I don’t know when it started—maybe it was slow, gradual—but my family grew on me. My sisters... they began to matter. I didn’t even realize it. Not until the god of harmony stepped in."

Salem’s eyes narrowed, the mention of a god drawing her attention sharply. Crimson’s voice grew thoughtful as he continued. "The god of harmony made me understand. He helped me see that I wasn’t the same person from before, that I was not living for myself. I wasn’t acting out of guilt or hate anymore. He helped me let go of my guilt and my sorrow. He showed me how much I had come to care about them."

Crimson’s marked face caught the dim light, his marks etched with stories of a life that defied the natural order. "When I was free of my guilt, I thought of dying again. I thought, ’This life still means nothing to me. Why not rest now?’ But I stayed. I stayed for them. Like before, few more decades didn’t matter to me"

He exhaled deeply, his shoulders lifting before he turned his gaze to Salem. "It wasn’t until after the war with you that I realized something else. I began to care about this life. It surprised me. It confused me. But it also gave me clarity."

Salem’s cold demeanor wavered as his words struck a chord deep within her. She tried to harden herself, but the vulnerability in Crimson’s voice made it impossible.

"And that," Crimson said, locking eyes with her, "is why I pity you."

Salem flinched at the unexpected words. "Pity me?" she asked, her voice low, almost dangerous.

Crimson nodded. "If I had gone through what you did, I would have become a much greater monster than you, even greater than Kokushibo. But I was lucky. You weren’t."

His voice is steady but heavy with meaning. "I had a family who cared for me, while yours imprisoned you. After everything, my brother didn’t abandon me, but Ozpin abandoned you. When I was a demon, there were others like me. I was not completely alone. But you? You were all alone."

Salem’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.

"When I gave up and wanted to die," Crimson continued, "I did. I had that release. But you? You’ve had to continue suffering for centuries."

He continued, his tone softening. "A god reached out to me, offered me salvation. But you—your fate was nothing but cruelty at the two brothers’ hands. So yes, I understand you more than anyone else in this world. And that is why I pity you, Salem. I am truly sorry that all I could do was imprison you here, chaining you to your suffering."

The room fell silent. Salem’s eyes shimmered with something unspoken, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Crimson’s honesty, his sorrow, and his acknowledgment of her pain struck her harder than any weapon ever could.

For the first time in centuries, Salem’s composure cracked. A single tear slid down her cheek, followed by another. She quickly wiped them away, but they kept coming.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

"I... I’d like to be alone," she finally managed, her voice trembling.

Crimson nodded, his expression gentle but resolute. He turned to leave, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. But before he reached the door, her voice stopped him.

"Crimson," she said softly. He turned back, his eyes meeting hers.

"It would be nice," she said hesitantly, "If you could visit me from time to time."

Crimson’s lips curved into a faint smile, one that held no malice, only understanding. "I promise," he said, his voice firm.

And with that, he left her to her solitude, the door closing softly behind him. Salem sat there, alone with her thoughts, her tears slowing as she pondered the strange, sorrowful man who had shared his story. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt something unfamiliar—she felt a connection to someone.