(This is the audio log of Dr. David Merlot, August 17th, 83 AW. The loss of my mountain laboratory had slowed my work considerably, but after over a year, I was able to fashion a new one, in a location which shall not be disclosed on something as insecure as a disk. The past year has offered little in the way of progress, even with my…current test subjects, but I was fortunate enough to discover a pack of new specimens that wandered into my humble abode just a week prior. Perhaps my newly installed…lures attracted them. Further experimentation is required.
Having sealed the creatures in my fortified capsules for now, I seized the chance to fine tune my device, a neurological probe designed to compel any Grimm I choose to attack on a specific command. Most reactions were ordinary; increased aggression, and even spontaneous evaporation in two cases. However, among these specimens was an Alpha Sabyr that has lived for at least two centuries, if not longer, given the comparison of age difference between others of its species. Upon probing that particular Grimm's mind, my equipment recorded peculiar waves that were not unlike brain waves.
As a man that once deemed the Grimm a species with a lack of sentience, I was astonished to make such a discovery. Given what we, as a species in our own right, understand about the Grimm, we had come to the conclusion that they possessed no Aura, and it is that understanding that led to the conclusion that they possessed no soul. These conclusions are the truth that humanity has embraced, and yet why then, do the Grimm have the capacity to learn over time? Is it not also a fact that a Grimm that has lived for a long time could learn to act with patience and cunning contrary to their aggressive brethren?
Unless, of course, the capacity for knowledge is not intrinsically tied to one's soul, or lack thereof. In which case, it is not only possible for the Grimm to be improved through outside means, as I have done on numerous occasions, but by their own ability to learn. With that in mind, one could theorize that the Grimm could even have the capacity to speak, or even shift their biology to blend among us. And if one does accomplish such feats, what would separate humanity from the Grimm, given how we, too, kill and destroy others to achieve success?
This excerpt is a loose translation of that very Grimm's thought processes. Further deliberation is required.)
"Dawn was coming. The Light's Empty Eye had risen once more. The Flesh still stood, fractured along with their creations, but unbroken. What should have marked the definitive end of this once shining beacon of The Flesh was thwarted. The defenders that have shielded The Flesh had lingered, as they often did. This was to be expected, as they were a part of this world since the end of their great war and the rise of their hero king. What differed from every other failure was how the end was not sparked by The Flesh's ingenuity or the accursed eyes of the Light God's chosen, but by one of our own; a terror that possessed a fervor eclipsing even the mightiest of our brethren.
Only a small pack of our Kin now remain; we are called "Sabyrs" in The Flesh tongue, but we have no need of names amid our own. We spoke only in intent, for they are louder than words. Amongst the pack, I stood with form and strength above my pack; a leader faster and mightier than the rest, but that strength was contested by the Siren's Song of the vile Heretic, who drew our Kin with the lingering familiarity of sweet suffering, only to hew their limbs and tear their bodies apart. Even that call was merely the harbinger of the Destructive Flames that beckoned terror upon all that gazed upon it, as this physical representation of the ravenous hatred that the Heretic wielded, struck fear into Flesh and Kin alike.
The full might of our pack, while strong and united over the disorganized Flesh, could not match the strongest of our Kin that Moon. We were not the sword that cut the Flesh and its Creations from its roots, but the whisper that sows confusion and panic among them. We were but the heralds of the mighty; the ferocious Kin that burned and trampled entire settlements of The Flesh until there were naught but ghosts and ashes. And yet, such strength faltered before the Heretic, who channeled a Destructive rage worse than their own, striking our Kin down like a wicked sickle through wheat before they could even set horn or claw in The Flesh's great structure.
With our great bloodbath lost, we few who lived to kill another Dawn, escaped the structure with our lives. As we trekked the endless cold of the Void, we understood the great significance of what took place that Moon. The balance of power had changed. For as long as time itself could remember, our Kin stood as the dominant beings of the world. The Flesh's Creations crumbled in numbers uncountable before us, weakened by the machinations that the Witch that Death Forgot mustered from the shadows. This union of savagery and insidiousness left a great plague upon The Flesh for time immemorial. Even with our attack thwarted, the voices of The Flesh travel far. Soon, a great panic shall upon The Flesh when voice of how their great beacon dimmed reaches their ears; a cavalcade of panic and sorrow ripe for our Kin throughout the world, yet the Witch herself was strangely absent during the attack.
After the Witch claimed one of the Light God's chosen as her own to pursue her own ambitions, she dragged her with the Kin that pervades one's own mind. Leaving The Flesh without their light, the Kin that remained were given free rein to sate their urges for Destruction without the Witch's presence. It was only after the bell of doom tolled its final chime that power changed hands. The Heretic, birthed from the purest suffering of the Light warrior's heart and made from our Sacred Pools from the Witch's own hand, delivered a swift retribution on the warrior's behalf in a mighty battle that left her foreboding citadel in ruins. The Witch did not die that night, nor could she, as Death had abandoned her.
To what end would the Heretic's coming lead? As I wandered aimlessly with my pack across the cold and desolate landscape, we've reached a new clarity. This outcome was brought about by treachery in all ways. The general that abandoned his own Flesh when the voice of doubt whispered in his ear granted our Kin the means to fracture this shining beacon. The Witch that uses Flesh after Flesh like pawns to lash out against perceived wrongs lead our Kin to extinguish many lives that night. And now, the Heretic that defiles all that they stand for has denied us our rightful victory with its very existence!
Treachery was a weapon that one should never rely on. We know this well, yet the irony that we serve the will of the Witch that betrayed her own Flesh and rebelled against the Gods is not lost to us. She is no Queen and never has been; she has merely filled the void that our true Lord and Master had left behind before The Flesh's Rebirth. To serve the Witch was a devil's bargain to those with hearts filled with greed, seeking to stray from the glorious Tenets of Destruction we've been blessed with to sate their meaningless desires. All who have followed the Witch have suffered terrible fates throughout the world's long history, leaving much death to draw from. We take great pleasure in this, yet the stain of serving one who curses our Lord and Master with every breath lingers on.
So why do our Kin remain by the Witch's command, content to sow death and despair on her behalf? We are, and shall always be, those that walk in the Dark, bringing Destruction upon the lives of The Flesh, with or without her meddling. As the Witch that Death Forgot, she clings to her choices, believing herself as a faultless paragon. It is that delusion brings about an urge to Destroy that rivals any of our Kin. She may see those she births from our Sacred Pools as her own, replacing the lives of The Flesh she claimed with her own hand, but the sentiment is not returned. The Witch is no more than a thief, taking secrets rightfully belonging to our Lord and Master. Even now, we dread her. Our aims were aligned, but nothing more.
Through time immemorial, it was the Witch that used our Kin as her sledgehammer against the Wizard that Stands Between Life and Death. And through this conflict, we have waited for the Dawn that our Lord and Master returns to us. The Witch's failing is clear, but what of ours? Where have our Kin failed? Were we not the Bringers of Pain and Despair as we were meant to be? Did we not sow Destruction faithfully in our Lord's image? Why were we left without His glorious presence just as The Flesh was?
The Light of our Master's brother shined upon the land now, but what of the Dark? This entire world was a joint effort between the Gods as a means to settle their Great Feud, yet with the Heretic's presence, the circumstances now overwhelmingly favor the Light. Did the Light God somehow have a hand in the Heretic's will? Or is the Heretic merely as fallible as the Witch, tainted by treachery with every step? Only one happening could provide such Knowledge: the Coming of the Gods once more.
And it is for that reason that our Kin are drawn to the Ideals that the Gods left behind, just as the Wizard and Witch are. They are called "Choice," "Knowledge," "Creation," and "Destruction" by The Flesh's tongue, but to us, they are merely vessels to call the Gods back to the world. Even the sword that manifests our Tenets of Destruction is no more than a tool meant to fit The Flesh's hands. To truly understand our Lord's Will, one needs no trinket, but a predisposition to his Ways. Yet this trinket is now the only means to call our Master back, when the Four are brought together as One.
Would The Flesh be splintered from the Witch's scheming, forcing the Gods to commit the ultimate act of Destruction: the utter extinction of The Flesh itself? Or would she fail, allowing our Kin may bask in our Lord's presence once more? Either outcome grants upon us a great boon, whichever it may be. It was that understanding that made the bitter taste of serving the Witch easier to swallow…until this Dawn. For now, it is the stench of treachery that pervades our Kin. Its wages are suffering, for we are now truly cursed.
The Mark of The Vile Flames was left upon the cold land as we left; a warning to all Kin that the Terror herein must be vilified for all to see! Mark the bite of its chosen apparatus, the Depraved Sickle, that hews our limbs and casts our Kin into the dirt! Mark the brimstone of its burning hate, the Vile Flames, that spews its vitriol and loathing upon us! Mark the venom of its iron will, the Savage Claws, that rips our flesh with fervor everlasting! Curse the Heretic that dares to mock our Tenets! Curse the Heretic that walks in the form of The Flesh! We shall cast its broken body upon the Blood of The Flesh and offer its vapor to our Lord and Master!"
(End of transmission.)
An elderly doctor sat alone in a sealed chamber of his own design, apart from the prying eyes of Remnant, with his third mug of coffee. From the moment this lingering memory reached his ears, sleep had eluded him. He had spent hour after hour that night listening to the translated message, taking in the inner thoughts of an Alpha Sabyr he'd probed with his equipment, over and over again. And yet, he could hardly believe the words his machine had translated from the creature's mind.
It spoke of the miraculous things of the legends of old; the tales told and retold throughout humanity's history since before he was born. As a man of science, Dr. Merlot placed little faith in mere stories, even as Ozpin relayed them as doctrine toward his inner circle before the two had a falling out. Witches and gods were popular subjects of fairy tales in their own right, yet neither fantastic story nor scientific effort had ever so much as hinted one particular entity: a heretic. For a man that dedicated his life to the subjugation of the superior species known as the Creatures of Grimm, the very idea that one could act against its own kind to a point that it would thwart an attack against humanity was inconceivable.
That left the doctor with many lingering questions, and most of them forced him to question his very understanding of the species. What drives this heretic to act against its species? What is the source of its strength? How is that strength so great that it could turn the tide of a battle against hordes of its own species single-handedly? How would it fare against the Huntsmen, the defenders of Remnant? Would the heretic offer them aid against a common enemy, or does it simply kill its own kind to have the blood of humanity all to itself? Just what does this unprecedented discovery portend? And what is already known of this heretic in the public eye?
That last question was proof that he'd been out of the public eye for too long. He went into hiding after the loss of his last laboratory, but he'd always meant to keep himself abreast of current events, like whether or not his attempt to fake his own death was successful. The destruction of the Cross Continental Transmit System rendered this impossible, however. For all Dr. Merlot knew, Ozpin could still be looking for him even now, so he never dared venture far from his new laboratory.
With a prideful mirth, he gazed upon the capsule where the Alpha Sabyr is imprisoned. All of the doubters and naysayers in his past intruded his mind, casting their blind judgments and empty opinions. His work to use the Grimm to make the world better for humanity was deemed "evil" by those that couldn't see their true potential. Ozpin's voice stuck out in particular, as he recalled the day when his last laboratory was invaded by his meddling Huntsmen.
"An entire city was laid to waste. Countless lives were lost. My only question is how much of the damage were you personally responsible for?"
It wasn't just Ozpin, either. Everyone thought him mad; his peers, his students, even his family. Just another difference of opinion, he would call it. Well, what about now? What would they think if they saw this heretic? If this particular specimen could be taken under his control, one could only imagine the possibilities. With what little he knew, it could already have been perfected by the power of science as it is, but that only made the prospect of such a creature more exciting. If only he could show Ozpin this audio log right now, he'd show him…no, all of Remnant would see that he was right all along.
The next step was clear. Where human and Grimm alike would quake in fear of this heretic, Dr. Merlot would remain steadfast. The weak-willed and soft-hearted could continue to ramble about their empty morality, as befitting of their place in the grand scheme of things. Whatever truth may be found at the end of this new experiment, one thing was clear: this heretic is drawn to suffering, like any other Grimm. One needs only listen to the audio log to piece that much together. It had thwarted an attack made by its fellow Grimm. That suggests that, at the very least, it somehow had the foresight to intercept them in a world where communication is a commodity. Again, the fall of the CCT was to blame for that.
Sleep would have to wait a bit longer. Only one final question lingered in the doctor's mind before he started his preparations: how would he know he found this heretic when he sees it? The audio log offered a major clue. The heretic "walks in the form of The Flesh," according to the Alpha Sabyr's thought processes. If one were to assume that The Flesh meant humankind, then the Grimm have already evolved enough to blend among them. But there were other features that were distinctly inhuman about the mysterious creature.
The "Savage Claws" are too common. It would be easier to name a Grimm that doesn't have claws. The "Vile Flames" could also mean a number of things. Any Grimm capable of breathing fire would qualify. The "Depraved Sickle" are a bit more specific. Perhaps the heretic is a Revenant, a rare subspecies of Grimm seldom seen by humanity, that has sickle-like appendages for arms? It looked human-like, if only in appearance, and was easily mistaken for an Apathy. If one were to cross-breed the biological weapons of a Sphinx with the body of a Revenant, then perhaps…no, a Revenant is too small. If its biology was as similar to an Apathy as its appearance, then its meager frame couldn't harness weapons within its belly.
Abandoning the realm of logic for now, the doctor noted another clue. There was mention of the heretic being born from "the purest suffering of a light warrior's heart." For a man of science, that delves too far into myth for his comfort. It may be related to the Silver-Eyed Warriors that Ozpin went on and on about during their past discussions they had over tea and coffee, but that's just an educated guess. The reality is that it could take months, or even years, to lure this heretic to his humble abode. His methods for doing so would inevitably lure any other Grimm as well, further complicating matters.
Nevertheless, the doctor remained unwavering in his choice. The possibilities were just too great to let this opportunity slip by. All he'd have to do for now is pay his…lures a little visit, make sure they're nice and comfortable, and then it's off to bed. It would be a waiting game for now. He could use this time to have some new equipment prepared just for this heretic, and once it came to him, he would know its secrets.