Right, my turn. Swiss here, and fianlly my new OC is alive!

Get ready Shadow ;)

Prelude 2 - The Great Celestial

Most people relate the great country of Mistral with its incredible breed of Hunters. Most of these Hunters of Grimm are winners of The Mistral Regional Tournament, and to host such a wonderful event is a feat worthy for Mistral to make her mark on the world of Remnant. However what people don't often think about if the traditions, the spiritual importance of Mistral. The gods of the kingdom.

The fairest of all the gods of Mistral is Moon. Her beauty cast the light that gives us dreams of hope and aspiration. Many worship her. The most dedicated of them were the Luna tribe. Nomads, who travel the eastern continent never settling down, for Moon always changes her shape, so why should they? They are strict, and are regarded in high seats among the wise. The people, however, call them strangers. Out-of-touch squatters who worship old gods. The Luna were cast out and rejected wherever they went. Not surprising when you practice human sacrifice.

It was a rare ritual, only held in the presence of an exact full moon, when the planets align and all kinds of technical Cosmological reasoning's. They head to the farthest reach of the east, a Holy Land. They would choose a child, young, pure, full of life, and they would sacrifice them to make the spirit of Moon happy.

So, when the time came, they headed east, to the Holy Land. They chose the child, Young, pure, full of life. They were ready. Sunset and Moon rise and the ceremony begins. The chanting, the dancing, the praying. It would have been a most beautiful event. The moon would approached the top of its orbit, and the Azure Sand dagger would be raised over the child, who cried, not wanting to die before they became old enough to understand what was going on.

And the Cobalt dagger would come down…

The night of the ceremony.

The child kicked against their restraints, the tears falling down their face as the High Priest stood over them, facing the crowd and chanting words in strange tongues the child couldn't understand. The Moon gazed down on them, her light untainted and magnificent. The crowd revered Moon in her chaste form. They called out to her, praying for richest, prosperity, and freedom from the hardships that faced them. The child said their own silent prayer.

To live.

Moon was at her highest, her size almost spanning the whole of the night. The priest turned, the Sapphire Dagger in his hand, his eyes never leaving from Moon. He spoke more unknown words and raised the dagger up, the chanting now raising in volume, in excitement and in lust for the spirit. The child sobbed more, crying out to the moon to spare them, that they didn't deserve this end. That they wanted to live, to be free, to love. The child struggled against the bindings on their hands and legs, one hand breaking free just as the dagger came down, but they did not try to stop its decent into their abdomen. No, they reached for Moon as if to touch her, like a child would when they asked for their mother to help them, to beg for them to listen to their pleas.

And Moon touched the child hand, and clutched them close to her heart.

The Dagger shattered against the child's skin. The Cerulean fragments fell the altar below, the skin not even torn slightly. The priest fell back in surprise, his face pale and frail. Monks rushed to help him up, and as they did they looked up to see the child, their hair now silver, their skin unblemished and undamaged from their previous attempts to escape, and their eyes were pure silver.

"It is her!" the old priest shouted. "Moon has joined with the child's body, the ritual is complete!" The crowd roared in pleasure, they franticly ran to try and touch their God, some not stopping but grabbing the closest male and releasing their joy by shedding their layers of clothing and celebrating naked in the basking light. But as they rushed to meet Moon it rose into the sky, the child's body emanating the power of light. And it spoke to the Luna.

"This body." It said, its voice female, young and charming. "This body, the body of a child, was about to be ripped open, and sacrificed so I could be summoned. Why? Why would I enjoy such an atrocious means of worship?" Moon moved the hands of the child, and pointed to the crowd. "You all, are murderers. Scoundrels of Night I cast my light down on and pity, pity and hate. An innocent child, now made host to me."

"Moon, your gracious light." The priest shouted, deluded by the mere vision of a god, "You do not like your sacrifice, if not we shall give you another! In fact, we shall sacrifice the old, the rich, the poor, anyone your desire! We love you Moon!"

Moon hung in front of her old body, the rock in the sky. The spirit not torn from her old home, the child's body was host to part of her, and the child was part of Moon now. They were one. And so the child's hatred towards the Luna and Moons' disgust at their crimes only meant one thing could be done.

Justice.

"You are deluded." Moon floated down, light gathering in one hand and forming a crescent blade of bright white. A Scythe. "You all are, if you think Moon, goddess of Innocence, of Clairvoyance, of Justice, would DARE think the murder a being of true innocence is acceptable?" Moon landed on the ground, a long white scythe that looked too long and heavy for a child to hold in her hand. "And for that, I must have justice."

Moon spun, the frail body of the child not a hundred times faster, stronger. The scythe cut through the priest, severing his head from his shoulders, which then rolled down the steps of the marble altar into the crowd, who panicked. Moon was calm, she always was, and she let the child feel just how easy it was to kill, and the child watched from their eyes, and smiled. Moon swept past rushing crowd, slicing the vermin and murderers and covering the marble with blood. Moon knew not everyone as guilty, not all of them agreed with the methods of the old ways, so she spared them. The child must know the difference between Justice and Glory.

Soon guards tried to stage a line of defence, pulling up guns and firing dust-coated bullets at the child. Moon spun the scythe to protect the child's body, Dust was a magical substance that wouldn't hurt a god, but would a host. Deflecting the bullets, Moon thought how useful it would be to have a firearm like those assault rifles. The scythe changed, now when Moon ducked below the barrage of gunfire the scythe changed, the mechanism shifting it into a rifle, long-range and powerful. Moon fired back, hitting each guard in the head and cycling a new bullet with the bolt-action. The child could only watch from inside their body, unable to stop Moon.

The last guard's head was punctured by the bullet, and the blooded altar was now empty, what's left of the Luna gone, most likely for good. Moon let the scythe turn back into light, disappearing from the hand of her host, who was now well aware of who was indie their body. Moon, sighing slightly, gave control back to the child, who fell under their own weight and trauma and fell to the floor, tears welling up again.

"Why? Why did you kill them?" the child asked.

"I am the Moon." The goddess inside told them. "My light shines on those guilty, and purges them of sin. I am Justice. I leave with you my power, use it as a sword of Justice Child."

The child felt Moon leave them, the spirit floating out of them and back into the sky. But the power remained. Bright and destructive.

"What if I don't wish to be your sword?" They asked.

Moon laughed. "Because after what you have just witnessed, don't you think youought to know the difference?" the child looked up at the moon, and saw it shatter, and they frowned, and understood. Moon had given them part of her power, so this lose on her side meant she was unfinished, broken.

Divided.

10 years later.

The centre of Mistral city was filled with people during the summer, when the hype of The Mistral Regional Tournament was present and the weather was glorious. However today had to be the day when the Mistral branch of the White Fang decided to host a "small incursion."

Floods of troops surrounded the crowd of bystanders who rushed out the way, wanting nothing more than to escape with their lives. Except one person, a hooded figure with a silver coat and headphones in on ear. A White Fang member noticed them, calling them to grab their attention.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Get over here with your hands up!"

The person didn't respond, he rushed over there, his gun raised. "Down on the ground, boy."

"Boy?" The White Fang was thrown back by a punch to the face, his lights out and his body numb. The rest of the White Fag turned to watch the person shed their long silver coat, and throw it away. Underneath was a white tank top, short white skirt and knew length black shorts, all worn by a beautiful, silver haired and blue eyed girl. "Not quite."

The White Fang raised their guns, the Mistral section being far more aggressive than those elsewhere in Remnant, and opened fire at the girl, who was fast, pulling out a pure white scythe and spinning it in front of her, deflecting the bullets. She jumped into the air, using a nearby building to push off with her legs and hurtle towards the terrorists. She spun herself like a ballerina, slicing two of the White Fang apart and covering the floor with blood. She landed, gaining her balance quickly and began a counter attack.

One tried to stab her with a sword, a mistake. His stab was met by a deflection upwards, then she brought it back down in an arch, cutting across him from shoulder to spleen. More now set up a line of defence, around 15 all loaded and aimed at the girl. She just smiled.

"Bring it one, boys."

They opened fire, the Dust bullets not fazing her as she side stepped and flipped out the way. She closed her eyes and felt the power of her Aura flow around her. A sigal appeared in front of her, shining a bright white and gathering light in its centre. She flowed all the light into this point until it became too much, and a beam of brilliant snowy white which blasted through the line of defence, burning the men and turning them into dust.

The girl stopped her beam, sweat not even broken and a smile on her face. The scythe she held disappeared into light, and she walked up to the piles of dust which used to be White Fang murderers. One remained, cowering with an injured shoulder and panic in his eyes.

"Who is this crazy bitch!" he cried, and she just sighed, rising her hand and letting the light collect into a ball in her palm.

"Selena Vulpel. Celestial, and soon to be Hunter of Remnant." She said with a cute smile. Pleasure." And she lunched the light into the man, creating a hole in his chest, killing him instantly.