Omake: What could have been
When one person has different routes but can only pick one, the other courses would create a universe where the same person made an alternate decision.
We are already in a universe far more divergent than the tales of Huntsmen and Grimm. We watch a universe where heroes and villains are created with marvelous powers that avenge the fallen. This time, however, we shall see a different universe where the heroes are never developed and instead made to fit a different role. One such hero is known for being the Golden Avenger, the smartest man in Remnant, the one who would have been known as 'The Invincible Iron Man.'
Such a hero was Whitely Schnee.
However, the universe we are about to see is not one where the boy turns into a man of iron. Instead, it is of a boy, one who comes from a broken family, a broken body, a broken mind-
And a witch who just so happens to arrive at the right place at the right time.
'I wonder why I chose to do this.' Thought Salem as she decided to use her Seer to peer into the vision of a random Grimm. 'Is it boredom? Mostly, I am an immortal being who has seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations. And I suppose just sitting in this chair while my lackeys do all my work is another factor.'
Salem instinctively looked around to make sure no one was in the throne room. Seeing as no one was around, the witch sighed and slumped on her throne as if it was a lazy boy. Sure, being an almost godlike entity in a fractured world sounds amazing, but after reaching one million years, one tends to enjoy the little things, such as peace and quiet.
'No one to continuously praise me every hour. No one to bug me about wanting more acknowledgment for their genius. No one to blab on about their sister dying and blaming so and so. And best of all, no Cinder to... well, whatever she does, I don't really know, honestly, but since she is thousands of leagues away from me is the best outcome.'
Hours passed as Salem continued using her Seer to witness different Grimm creatures either going through normal animal behaviors or seeing some kill and destroy small villages or vice versa by Huntsmen. Flipping through them all as if she was switching through different channels, Salem decided to count to five and then commanded the Seer to stop landing at a random Grimm who was witnessing an odd sight.
"Oh?" Salem straightened herself onto her throne, paying attention to the scene playing before her.
She was witnessing a group of people wearing white masks tossing some burned bodies into a pit filled with more burned corpses.
"Those people, I believe, call themselves the White Fang." She said out loud. "A shame how such a race is still being treated unjustly. Yet another reason why Ozma's actions thus far are weak-handed."
After seeing them pile what was the last brunt corpse, a size that was small enough for her to know that it was a corpse of a young man.
When the body sunk into the rest of the corpses, the White Fang made some remarks, laughed, and then walked away as if tossing human bodies like they were throwing the trash.
Her interest in the scene fading, Salem was about to switch to a different sight when she spotted movement in the pile of dead bodies. A minute passed, and soon a charred hand rose from the bed of lifeless meat sacks. That hand pulled until a body emerged, revealing to Salem that the burnt body was the last to be tossed into the pit. Choosing to get a closer look, Salem took control of the Grimm that was witnessing this and started to scuttle closer to the struggling corpse.
Reaching closer, Salem realized that the Grimm she was controlling was small, as when she was close enough to see the corpse drag itself out of the pit, he did not know its presence was near.
"Hmmm." Being an unkillable being, Salem has extensive knowledge of the human body because of countless suicide attempts. She sees a body with no skin due to the fire consuming all the natural fluid from him. The process should also shrink his organs due to the severe burning. She should know, for she attempted to burn alive, hoping that constant fire would incinerate her until she was nothing but ashes. 'At this point, the sweet release of death would be the only cure to end their sorry fool's suffering.'
"And yet I hear no whimpering nor a poor attempt at begging for help." Salem caught sight of the crawler's eyes, and for what seemed like a long time, Salem was left speechless.
It was as if time had slowed, and everything around her was gone leaving only her and the charred moving body.
Salem has made eye contact with countless eyes in her immortal life. A lot showed fear, awe, envy, hate, and acceptance of defeat. Yet the eyes staring back at her, well, to say they were eyes, was putting it lightly. They were more like twin pools of black with specks of blood, making it a miracle that in the center of those damaged eyes were bright light blue irises that showed nothing but defiance, will, and wrath.
Remembering to breathe, Salem composed herself and watched as this person crawled aimlessly into the open desert. Thinking that it would only take a couple of seconds before the nearly dying finally croaked. She made a sport of it and waited until his futile attempt at survival would end.
Once again, Salem was surprised as seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours, and yet the body continued to crawl forward. Not once has his eyes dimmed, making Salem continue to change her thoughts about wanting to watch him die. Salem commanded Grimm in the area not to harm the struggler and ordered them to create a perimeter to protect him.
Such a generous action was a rarity for her. If they were here, some of her lackeys would even question why she would spare the sorry state of a human. Her answer to them was to shut up and witness the sheer astonishment of this man's actions with their own eyes. Hours upon crawling, the sun finally set, and the shattered moon shined down, cooling the sand. She would have thought that he would stop and rest, yet he only continued his pace, aimlessly crawling.
"Is his body moving by sheer muscle memory, or is his mind just damaged that if it decided to stop, so too does his life?" Her question was left unanswered as Salem chose to take action finally.
"It's been some time since I left my castle. But this could prove interesting."
Another thing that made her stand above the rest of humanity was that she was one of the few beings who could use magic that was thought lost millennia ago. One such magic was the ability to create a portal from her throne to another destination within Remnant. A magic that not even her minions know of and would never know as she does not wish to reveal all her advantages.
'Plus, I rather them deal with their own means of transport.'
Salem's small musing seemed to distract her from noticing that the burnt, half-alive corpse grabbed the bottom of her dress. Her usual reaction to someone having the gall to touch her would be to sever the hand and destroy the body, but not this time. Her reason for teleporting herself in front of him was to see his reaction to seeing her.
Would he beg to have her save him or ask to kill him finally?
None of those happened, and instead, Salem can see that the stranger, who, upon getting a better look, was no younger than a boy reaching his early teens, kept tugging at her dress in a vain attempt to move her aside.
'He sees me as an obstacle. He would rather crawl on all fours with his husk of a body than ask for help from someone who is in front of him.' She did not give respect to anyone, yet this mortal in front of her seemed to be the exception. 'No, this is no boy nor a man.'
Finally having enough blood and sand on her dress, Salem grabbed the hand that dared touch her and lifted the half-corpse to her eye to describe better who piqued her interest. As soon as she lifted him, the burned boy started to wrestle her hand away from him by using his other weak hand to pry her fingers off.
"Can you even understand me? Or even comprehend who you are in the presence of?"
She got her answer by having the boy use his teeth to gnaw at her fingers. His movements and wild flailing made the charred skin break open, making what little blood he had leaked out. Even his face started to leak blood, making him look more monstrous than a human.
It also didn't help that he looked more monstrous because he had a large shrapnel shard sticking out of his head.
"A demon," Salem said in amusement. "Whatever humanity you had died in that pit and are now reborn as a demon who has yet to learn how to walk."
She laughed at such oddities today. Indeed to be unprepared this entire day must be a sign that something within the universe is changing.
"Ok, young demon," Salem smiled as she dragged the boy with her now gnarled hand that still held a firm grip back with her. "I think you're going to love your new home."
"My Mistress," Watts kneeled in front of her in the throne room, where Salem looked down at him like an insect. "I have come to inform you of the news of your young demon."
"Then speak," After Salem returned, she immediately told Watts to return to the castle. He was confused as he was still completing a mission given to her, but he soon dropped it as he did not want to receive his Mistress's ire. "What have you learned about my injured guest."
"The guest is none other than Whitely Schnee. The youngest of the Schnee family. A family who is most notable for being one of the wealthiest families in Remnant by being the owner of almost all dust mines. They are also the most hated, mainly by Faunus, for their harsh labor laws."
"I do not care about their lien nor the woes of others. What do you know of the boy, and why was he in such a pitiful state?"
"Understood. Like me, Whitely is one of the most intelligent men in Remnant. I hate to admit it, but even I would have difficulty keeping up with him in the battle of the minds if he wasn't already known for being a Schnee for their dust. The boy would have been known for creating weapons for Atlas."
"Weapons?" Salem raised an eyebrow.
"The boy has a knack for creating things that destroy. There are those from the underworld of crime who dubbed him 'the merchant of death.'"
"Death?" Salem barked a laugh. "More like a machine of war." Saying that out loud made Salem's mind start racing with a possibility, and as her mind continued to process, Watts began to talk again.
"He was in the desert due to taking part in weapon testing for the Atlas military. As they were escorting him back, his convoy was hit by a radical branch from the White Fang. Funnily enough, the attack was meant for his father, Jaques Schnee, and to be used as a hostage. It seemed like the universe chose to throw a curve ball and had Whitely take his father's place. And, as ironic as it gets, the White Fang used the same weapons made by the Schnee that killed the convoy. Whitley, by some luck, survived the blast. Though, I think it would have been better if he did die with what happened to him afterward."
"You mean the shrapnel stuck in his head?"
"Among other things. Upon my check-up, I counted over a dozen things wrong with the boy that should have killed a full-grown man. Even if he had aura, Whitley should have been dead."
Watts then proceeded to ramble off the health issues Whitely is facing.
"In order, Whitely has shrapnel in his head and heart, severe burns that are impossible to heal, and also crawling all day in the desert should have left him even more dehydrated. After what you told me makes me believe, a man of science and medicine, that perhaps Whitley did indeed die, and a demon chose to possess his body."
"I wonder..." It was a stray thought that Salem would not have considered at the time. Yet right now, that thought could be a reality. "Watts, where is the Schnee?"
"He is currently in my laboratory, strapped to a bed. I tried to sedate him, but that seemed only to cause him to struggle even more as if he wanted to stay awake and continue to feel pain."
Standing up from her throne, Salem walked past Watts and headed to where her young ward was. Confused at her sudden movement, Watts got up from kneeling and followed five paces behind her.
"So, he is still conscious, then?"
"Yes, and he has been trying countless times to free himself that I had to use reinforced restraints. I did try to inject a sedative afterward, but like before, it only made him struggle. Which is amazing, as I have injected him a dozen times over that I doubt even Hazel could stay standing."
"How interesting," Salem mused. "And your thoughts on him surviving while here?"
"Dead. In my years as a scientist as well as having extensive knowledge of biology. Whitley Schnee should be dead. IS DEAD! What I witnessed when performing the check-up would make any doctor scratch their head, and they would all agree that the merciful thing to do is to put him out of his misery. And honestly, my Mistress, I had thought the same."
Salem remained silent when she was in front of the door leading to Watt's section of the castle that deals with science and medicine. Entering the area, Salem was greeted by seeing several of Watt's projects. Not even looking at Watt's experiments, the immortal being stopped at the foot of Whitley's medical bed. Just as Watt's said, several strong metal bands are restraining the boy while trashing about in a vain attempt to escape.
"He is much livelier than last I saw him." An idea popped into her head, and without even warning Watts, Salem easily ripped the bands off the bed, freeing the burnt teen. Watts wanted to warn his Mistress that it was dangerous, but a pale hand from Salem silenced him. "There, you're free. What will you do now?"
Whitely's burnt, bloodshot eyes looked at Salem. His struggle stopped as he no longer felt the harsh, cold straps bind him, and a part of his mind was still working to be able to piece together what Salem said. Grunting, Whitley forced himself off the bed before gravity took hold and fell onto the cold hard floor. Just like before, Whitley crawled in one direction, not knowing or caring where he was. As he crawled, Whitley's eyes caught sight of a thing his brain had difficulty comprehending before remembering it was called a 'window.' Using his arms to drag his body, making his wounded skin open again and leaving a trail of blood behind him. Whitley reached the bottom edge of the windowsill and forced himself up to see what was out there.
"Interesting," Watts used his left hand to rub his chin despite being disgusted that fresh blood was on his floor. The scientist couldn't help but be fascinated by Whitely's actions. "How he is acting, and his body movement suggests that he reverted to his infancy. I have read past documents where people who suffer brain damage would revert to being a child."
"A child," Salam agreed, that what Whitley was doing was indeed childish. How he was looking out the window was of curiosity, as if seeing the world for the first time. "If he thinks like a child... Whitley!"
"..." Her words were ignored as he stared out the window.
Choosing a different approach, Salem moved her index finger in a small circle and created a small ball of light. The bright wisp floated to Whitely, and the young Schnee stared at it, no longer paying attention to the window. He was about to grasp it with a damaged hand when the ball floated back to Salem.
"Come." Salem spread her arms to her sides as if inviting him for a hug.
Whitley walked just one step before his legs gave out, and a painful grunt left his lips. Whitley tried to lift himself without giving up but kept falling back down. Salem stayed in the same position, arms wide to her sides, and continued to look at Whitley, who had yet to leave his spot.
"Mistress," Watts spoke. "I wish to ask why you are even humoring this. The shrapnel jutting out of his skull is longer than it appears. More than half of the shard pierced his entire frontal lobe and near the amygdala. To say his chance of walking is beyond what even science could fix. Whitley can-"
"Silence." Salem glanced at Watts, making him stand at attention. "If you have not yet realized it, Watts. You are a fool rather than a man of genius. Did you not beg me to take you under my wing to prove to those who went against you that it was a mistake? I took you in not because of your mind but because of your sheer will and grit to see things through to the end."
"My mistress," Watts wanted to say more but was left speechless as he saw Whitley forcing himself to walk upright. Whitely's face was filled with pain as his legs shook to the point where he would fall any minute. Yet, despite his body's protest and grunts of anguish, he kept walking. "Inconceivable."
"You may have missed it, but I did not. Beyond this, weak and ugly form lies behind something invincible and beautiful. You say Whitley's mind is broken. He is just bent and needs a guiding hand to straighten him out. My hand."
Bloody step by bloody step, Whitely was just one pace away before he slipped from his own blood. He was going to fall forward when something soft stopped him from feeling the cold tiled floor.
"Well done," Salem wrapped her hands around his small frame. Her fingers felt his cracked skin, making her hug the boy in her hands even tighter. "Watts may see you as nothing but a sad thing. Others see you as a pest or worthless. But you're perfect in my eyes."
This sensation was something foreign to Whitley, and it caused him to lose his reason for standing as he leaned into the hug. After a minute or so of the embrace, Salem realized Whitley was asleep. Carrying him like a newborn babe, Salem turned to Watts coldly and walked past him towards the exit.
"Do you know where the location of the White Fang group that caused this?"
"Y-yes."
"Good, I want you to head over there. There is something they are using to hide from my Grimm, so when you are there, infiltrate their camp so that the Grimm can wipe them out. If you find anything worthwhile, take it and tell me your findings."
"At once, Mistress." Watts bowed.
As Salem left Watts for his devices, she could not help but feel reminiscent of her past long ago.
"Perhaps," Salem looked down at the young child, this demon, and couldn't help but feel the lingering feeling of being a mother. "I could relive this moment again besides if Ozpin wishes to bastardize our daughters by giving strangers the gift of magic. Then why can't I?"
The Grimlands was a plane of unlife. No creature could thrive, let alone any mortal, to try and set a place here to live. Only Grimm and Salem can truly walk these lands without the need for their safety.
"This is where it ended and began for me," Salem said as she stopped at the black pit that turned her into what she is now. Walking into the sea of black made the young Schnee stir awake from his sleep. "You are awake. Good, for this is where you shall inherit my gift and curse."
Being chest-deep into the tar, Salem stared deep into Whitley's light blue eyes, smiled, then proceeded to drown Whitley.
Upon reflex, the young teen started to fight back as best as he could. He was able to land his hands on Salem's face and tried to scratch her face off, yet Salem did not seem to care as her skin peeled off as new fresh skin would replace the old.
"Yes, keep fighting the baptism. Struggle if you must. Let out everything that has held you back from your old life. Let it all drown in the dark."
Soon, Whitley's hands would start to slow down, and any strength he had faded, as well as the light in his eyes. Still having him in the dark water, Salem placed her hand on his lifeless face and allowed his body to sink deeper into the pit. Walking out of the dark depths, Salem turned around, faced the open water, and waited.
She waited and waited. Minutes became hours, and soon hours turned to days with no signs of change. Yet she still remained in her very spot, despite her minions questioning her about her actions; Salem told them not to worry and to keep working.
After a whole week, something finally emerged from the deep. It was a small change, some small bubbles came to the water's surface before popping, but that was all Salem needed to know her plan worked.
A being similar to Salem, yet at the same time not, slowly, a being emerged out of the dark Grimm pit. His skin was as black as night, with blue lines traveling around his body. The center of his chest was hollow as if something ripped his heart out, and when looking upon his face, one would think this being was the devil himself rather than Whitley Schnee.
His once charred and horrid visage is no more as his eyes showed calm and emotionless dark blue eyes, and the shrapnel still embedded in his head is twisted, making it look more like a horn. As his feet finally touched the jagged ground, the now-reborn Schnee looked at Salem with his cold, logical gaze.
"Again, you have shown the sheer will to prevail against any obstacle. You, who are no longer the same, will be known as my kin, my child, my-"
"Goddess!" Tyrion, the ever-devout Huntsmen, made a deep bow to Salem. "I have returned from another hunt. The prey is still fresh, and like your order, I have brought the target for Watts to examine."
"Rise, Tyrion," Salem said, and like the obedient worshipper, he stood back up. "Your news pleases me. I will inspect the body at a later time. Call upon my children now, for I wish to speak to them."
"As you command, my Goddess!" Again, the man prostrated himself to her and hurried off to assemble her heralds.
Once again alone with her thoughts, Salem looked out the large glass window viewing outside.
'How long ago was it that I found them?' She thought to herself. 'It feels so long ago that I had the idea, yet I can't help but be proud of what I have done. Be proud of what I have given birth.'
The sounds of the double doors opening gave Salem the signal that Tyion had assembled her heralds, her FAMILY.
Her eyes landed on the first to enter.
"War." Said Salem as she spotted the armored giant. She remembered how frail and small he was that she could lift him within her arms. Now, War has become a giant of a man that even Hazel would have to crane his head up to look War in the eyes. His height was not the only thing that stood out, as he wore a suit of armor that showed it all over, showing he had been in countless battles. War would also sport a helm that would cover his head save for the small open spot to have his horn stick out.
He would always enter before his brothers, as it was an unspoken rule that War would always be the first to see Salem. She assumed it was because he was considered her 'firstborn,' even when he was actually the youngest of the four.
Soon the second child entered the throne room. While War was a mountain of a man, Salem's second child was the complete opposite.
"Famine." The second son entered the room and stood beside his brother, War. Famine was a thin man as he looked like he had been starving for years without proper sustenance. His armor had a feline appearance with a faded purple outline, and his slim stature made Famine look more like a starving cat than a starving man.
He was not always like this; Salem had found him half dying with several wounds on his body after losing a duel with a challenger. What was once a proud prince of a strong kingdom was now reduced to a dishonored vagabond reborn as Salem's second child.
When the third child entered, a dozen or so flies could be seen buzzing around him, and some even emerging out of his contamination suit. Such flies would be seen as a nuisance to her and her other sons, but to others, even touching them would mean certain doom as they carried a deadly disease.
"Pestilence." Her third son responded to his name by nodding his concealed head, and the sound of a thousand tiny wings buzzed within him as a response. Unlike her other two sons, Pestilence was someone of a common lineage that came into Salem's life in the most common encounters, yet within him held potential just like the rest of his siblings.
When the third son took his place next to Famine, Salem's fourth and final son made his presence known.
Unlike the other three, Salem's last child did not have the same presence as the others. War would enrage any grown man or woman and attack friend and foe alike. Famine has the effect of causing anyone who is near his proximity to be weakened to the point where they would lie down as if they ran a marathon. For Pestilence, he had a similar ability to Famine, but instead of people being exhausted and weakened, they would contract sickness and die shortly after.
Yet her last child's lack of luster entrance was by design, as it represents what he is best known for.
"Death." Salem's final child walked with nary a sound as he placed himself next to Pestilence. Unlike the rest of his brothers, Death did not wear armor that was suited for battle, nor a suit meant to contain some unknown plague. Death was wearing a skin-tight suit with black spider webs covered by an even larger web he used as a hooded poncho covering his entire head.
All four of her sons were now here, and each one carried a special appearance despite being just like her. Watts believes it was due to their genetic makeup that changed their physical appearance. Still, Salem thinks they are different compared to her because the dark water they were submerged in merely brought what was underneath their skin forward, making them become what they truly are.
In unison, the four bent the knee to their mother, and the Queen of Grimm rose from her throne and descended the steps until she was standing in front of them.
"I welcome you, my sons, my... Horsemen of the Apocalypse!"
I would like to say that I am sorry if this chapter was not the one you wanted. I wanted to make the chapter with the main storyline, but life seems to be changing for me in a positive way.
I got promoted, which is excellent for me, but now that means I have more responsibility that needs to take precedence. I don't want my boss to think it was a mistake, so I focus on my job rather than my story.
Not only that but I am also getting settled into my new home. Thanks to my new position, I am living far more comfortably. Though, it did come with the price of moving most of my stuff, which took more time too. Then, of course, I have college on the side, so this month, of have been really doing other more important things than writing.
I'm sure these sound-like excuses, but I will get back on track soon. For now, I chose to publish this chapter. This idea has been with me for some time now, and I wanted to write an Omake about it. This is an alternate reality, and who knows, if it gets really popular, I could bring this into the main storyline someday.
As to why their appearance is different than Salem, the whole pale skin, black veins, Etc., it is because I wanted them to be more than Salem's children. I wanted them to have the appearance created by their trauma, and thanks to the Grimm pool, it has been made manifest. I only showed Whitley's because, as I said earlier in the A/N, it was due to my other responsibilities. So, I could not make the other three origin stories. If, with some time and popularity regarding the Horsemen, I could return and make the other origin stories about Famine, Pestilence, and Death.
Thank you all for your time, and I hope you liked this alternative take on the heroes now turned Horsemen.
