Mankind - a stubborn group of ingrates. Unappreciative of the gifts that their creator-
No.
- Their mother gave them. It was thanks to her design, both races - Faunus and Human - were mighty, resourceful, ruthless and cunning; unbound by so-called 'moral excellence'.
Until the creator's children took it upon themselves to tear it all down.
While humanity benefited from their meddling - producing kingdoms and civilisation, advanced weaponry and technology, and being able to access the slightest bit of her magic in the forms of Dust, Aura and Semblance - the glory they had slipped from their grasp. Her kin's expectations and childish defiance tricked them. Mankind abandoned their Mother and had forsaken everything she gave them. Lured in like lambs to the slaughter through promises of strength found in unity, light and other fickle 'virtues'. They know they can never truly achieve those things, but they try.
Foolishly.
She had to punish them for their insolence, sending the creatures of Grimm - born from their own pain and hate - to them.
But they clung on.
Oh, how tightly they clung.
- To their precious guardians, to their hope. They dared to believe that they could delay the inevitable.
A disembodied voice chuckled into the void. His joy got louder. Laughter flying overhead and landing on a sigh.
"I see the centuries have not been kind to your mind, mother."
"My dear son," hostility dripped from her lips, "do you have nothing better to do than to gloat?"
"No – your… skewed perception of reality was quite interesting to listen to and I couldn't help myself."
The 'mother' hummed, "Skewed?"
"Why yes; you ignored the reality throughout that little monologue of yours - that the bitterness in that charred, black, rock you call a heart caused Man's defiance."
"How-"
The 'son,' interrupted her, uncaring of the fire he ignited, "You blind yourself to the incredible power our creations possess out of fear – reality is far easier to cope with if you lie to yourself, isn't it?"
"I fear nothing."
"Nothing but them it seems, as they are the only creatures on Remnant capable of challenging your weakening magic."
"Do not mock me, child!" the void shook because of the deep bass of the scream, "Hold that tongue of yours and perhaps it will be the last thing I rip from you once I regain my strength!"
"Lucky me."
"There is no victory in strength, but you stupidly believe that they could ever challenge me; you are as cruel as the Grimm for feeding them such lies – Man has no power, not in mind or body!"
Mother's voice echoed, trailed by harsh breathing. Her son kept quiet. They looked at each other. Seeing the other's form for the first time in a millennium. The son sighed. Twenty thousand years weighed on his mind and shined through his wet brown eyes.
"Perhaps you are right, but victory doesn't always need those two things to be gained."
The image of his mother faded slowly away, but he couldn't let that be his last word.
"Our power is diminishing mother; Man will no longer need us soon enough - but what they do need and what they will have is the might of a small and honest soul."
She disappeared. But her sneer and burning red eyes - stuffed full of hate - stayed with him. Straining his heart and etched in his mind. Looking down at his ageing body, he could only exhale as he too faded away.
"That is where they will find victory."