Fun story idea I had. Couldn't get my head to stop thinking about it so here I am. Hope you all enjoy!

The Lives of One

Chapter 1

With a gasp, a warrior of his village lurched forward, feeling an otherworldly essence inhabit his mind. There was no way to describe it, impossible to do so, for this was never something he had ever experienced before. He was Ozric once, but in the next instance, he was something much more. Brown eyes flashed green, and he held his larger sword with the familiarity of which belonged to another. With one hand, he flicked out and slashed the throat of a Grimm wolf. Slaughtering it with grace unseen mere moments ago. As the man he used to be surrendered to the powerful sensation, there was no concern as to why or how fast he gave into this sensation so easily and swiftly. Surrendering control of his body in order to protect those he cared for most. It was second nature, like it was his destiny.

Ozma, a renowned warrior wizard from an era recently passed, opened his eyes, glowing green. An aura wrapped around his fire like cold fire, as did his eyes. Tendrils of white energy flowed around his arms, crackling, and ready to burst at a moment's notice. For an instant, Ozma was confused, but then, he remembered.

"... Mankind will not be as whole as it would be if we were to remain, which is why I am sending you back. Search for these relics," The memory of a lantern, a staff, a sword, and a crown flashed across his mind, all golden and accented with blue light, though not naturally so. It was more like it was burned into his memory. Impossible to forget, no matter how hard he tried to think onwards.

"Creation, Knowledge, Destruction, Choice. These four aspects are what make up humanity, our greatest gifts. Use these aspects to destroy the evil that now plagues this world. But beware, this is an evil that you are unfortunately intimately familiar with. Do not fall for its charms, and do not let your past dictate your actions today. Humanity is being granted a second chance through you, Ozma. When your divine mission is complete, and the four relics are brought together, we will return to bring forth humanity's next golden age."

Ozma gripped a head with hands that did not belong to him, yet when he looked down at his body, he saw that it was indeed the one he inhabited. His mind spoke with two voices, as did his aura merge with the power of two.

"I've been reincarnated," The returned soul whispered as he raised his head, returning his attention to his surroundings. That's right, Ozric, the warrior he now shared a body with, had been fighting to defend his village against an onslaught of Grimm. He had slain one, yet a dozen more remained. Twice that was the amount of bodies that had strewn amongst a bloody battlefield. It was less of a battle and more of a slaughter, Ozric seemed to have been the only one with any meaningful strength. A field of red and white grass with trees of similar likeness. He remembered this land, in his time, it was called the land of Forever Fall.

"I see." Ozma said, adjusting his grip on the sword he was wielding. "I am returned, though not without purpose it seems. I must find this great evil that was described to me, and destroy it. Even if she looks like my Salem."

With no more words to say, Ozma suckled more control out of his new form. He lunged forward at speeds that no Grimm alive could see. His sword danced in his hand, his body was but a blur of white and green. Six Grimm were felled in what must have been seen as an instant. Upon the seventh's death, Ozma threw his sword to slay the eighth, then with practiced grace, he used telekinetic magic to call back the sword to his hand, and skewer the next advancing Grimm. This one took the form of a boar, with thick white plates of bone covering its head and back, that left its underside vulnerable. A weakness he instantly exploited. The final four Grimm hesitated upon seeing him slay its brethren so quickly and precisely. Any lifeform with even the minimal amount of intelligence would have fled by now upon witnessing its pack be slaughtered, but these were no such life forms, these were forms without life. Mindless Grimm, whose sole purpose in this world is to bring destruction and death. Ozma almost pitied them, for they didn't know any better.

Ozma breathed in a gentle huff of air, and when released, a wave of magical energy scythed through the area in front of him. Slicing the remaining Grimm in twain, eliminating them. Once the deed was done, Ozma turned his attention to what remained of the village.

"I am the sole survivor." Ozric, his vessel, said, his voice barely a whisper in his head as Ozma assimilated what was left of him. "This great evil you've been told to destroy, it is an evil witch who has taken residence in this forest. I was meant to lead a force to destroy her, but she found out, and sent the monsters to kill us all before we could muster a force large enough to threaten her."

Ozma peered into Ozric's memory. It was painfully easy to do so, everything that this man was became him. The voice which spoke in his mind was less of the former warrior and more of his as he took his thoughts and made them his own.

"I see." Ozma tore his head away from the ruined village. He didn't know if there was anyone left alive truthfully, but he didn't have the time to try and explain himself. If this great evil was as powerful as the God of Light made them out to be, then any normal human would be useless anyway. If they didn't have magic, they could not be relied on. He must remember to always consider that.

"I will complete my mission." Ozma said, walking deeper into the woods. There were no more Grimm to be seen, the evil was thwarted for now. "If she is not far, then I have reincarnated at a remarkably convenient time at exactly the right place." The God of Lights's final gift to him, he reckoned. "I can use this first life to see what I am up against, and if I need the relics, I shall collect them in the second."

The world has changed. Ozma had concluded as he made his way through the forest of white and red. He remembered this area from his time, a bustling city used to remain here. The city was called Whitecrest, and he remembered Salem, his wife, taking him there to buy some of their renowned crimson syrup. Many fond memories were born from Whitecrest, and now it was… nothing. Nothing but nature. Some ruined remains of stone structures were visible sticking out of the ground here and there, but all of its glory and beauty was gone. It had been reduced to a swamp, likely one of the effects of the God of Darkness's culling of humanity after they rose up against the Gods thanks to his wife's desperate attempts to revive him.

"You poor woman." Ozma thought to himself. He wanted to be upset with her, but how could he? If he had to watch as Salem died of an illness that could not be cured so unfairly, he couldn't ever see a version of himself not doing everything in his power to bring her back, even if it meant petitioning the Brother Gods themselves for divine intervention.

Ozric was right, however. The wooden house centered in this swamp looked just like the one from his memories. She was here, he could sense her magic, and he prepared himself to destroy it. But he stopped. That magic he sensed, it was familiar, impossibly so. So much so that as he ascended the many stairs up to the entrance of the house, he stood still, sword sheathed and eyes wide, as a woman with deathly pale skin and snow white hair opened her door. Her red and black eyes stared at him with an annoyed, angry glint, but just as he did, they widened with instant recognition. It was at that moment did a realization strike him.

The Great Evil the God of Light warned him about was no great evil at all. But his wife, Salem. Even in the monstrous Grimm-like form she now took, he could perfectly capture her image as the woman he saved and fell in love with all those years ago. Centuries ago, at this point. She was not unrecognizable, she was not the irredeemable beast the God painted her as.

"It's impossible." She said, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at him and covered her mouth. "It's you, isn't it?"

Just as she fell to her knees in disbelief, Ozma dashed forward to meet her, dropping to his knees as well to meet her level.

"It is, my love." Ozma said, clasping one side of her face in one hand. Her skin felt cold and he could feel a vile presence flowing through her veins. But he did not care.

"This was the great evil that I was tasked to destroy? No, I deny it. I will not destroy what I have yearned for in death for an unquantifiable amount of time. This was your greatest mistake, Brother Gods, for my love and I have finally been reunited!"

"I am here, and I won't ever leave you again." For a long moment, they embraced each other. Husband and wife, separated and denied each other for so long. As Ozma held his love, he couldn't be happier, but also couldn't help but think about his God-given mission.

"What do we do now?" He found himself asking, at a loss.

Salem smiled, her eyes narrowing gleefully.

"Whatever we want."

One Century Later…

Ozma and Salem, one chosen as the God of Lights champion, the other making herself the Chosen of the God of Light, albeit through blood alone. They quickly became a swathe of power that conquered all that remained of the world. They were revered as Gods. Willing away and destroying the Grimm everywhere within their ever-expanding territory, until finally, banishing them all to the God of Darkness' former domain. It was then later called 'The Grimmlands'. A land of corruption, evil, and absent of color. Their people were deathly loyal to them, prepared to pick up their swords and fight for them at a moment's notice. One single command was all it took to raise an army. They needed no court, no bodyguards, no servants. Their magic was all that they needed. And it worked, it worked so well, that Ozma was scared that the Gods were scheming something. Though, it had already been a hundred years. If there were supposed to be ramifications for him disobeying the Gods, then surely they would have come to him. No, he came to the conclusion that the Gods simply weren't watching at all. They simply plotted him back into the world of the living in a new body and set him off to do his divine divine duty being defeating his love and bringing balance to the world as a result.

Ozma lamented all too long.

Though she was described as this great evil that tormented what little remained of humanity, with Ozrics memories, or at least his perception of the popular belief of what Salem was, she may have been that for a time. But she changed now, he could see it.

Even her features have changed as she was full of life and love. Her eyes were still red, but not glowing crimson like a Grimm, and also unlike a Grimm, the whites of her eyes have returned. The pulsating purple-black veins have also receded, and in certain lights, even the natural color of her skin and hair could be seen again. With those physical changes, she also regained the ability to bear children. An ability they were both all too happy to exploit when she first got pregnant. They've always wanted children back in their first lives, but they never could due to his illness. This new, strengthened body however, had none of the downsides of a normal human. Over time, spells were invented by the two of them to make them immune to all disease, nigh-invulnerable to outside harm by an essence he has named aura, the life energy of one's soul manifested to defend the body. Lastly, Salem was able to make it so that he could no longer age, so that he could forever remain in his prime. Though it was still in its early stage, he could still be killed by an overwhelming force. But as Salem was happy to point out, there was no overwhelming force that existed that could kill him now.

Ozma had everything he could have ever wanted. He had four beautiful daughters, each named after the four seasons, who also inherited their magical abilities. He had an empire which spanned the world. Unlimited power, wealth, and influence.

Yet on the day of the hundredth year of his second life, he found himself standing alone on the balcony, staring into the stars and the shattered moon, the permanent reminder of what also remained out there. The Gods. His mission. He wanted to say they didn't matter anymore, but…

"What are you doing?"

Ozma gasped at the unfamiliar voice, he did not conjure it, and he did not recognize it.

"You were supposed to be our hero, not our ruler."

"Ozric?" Ozma shook his head in disbelief. "How is this possible? I absorbed you completely decades ago.

"You did absorb me. I was gone, and I cannot explain how I regained consciousness enough to speak to you. Something has changed, you should already know what."

"Nothing else needs to change," Ozma growled. "The world will forever know peace under our rule. My daughters will become the Maidens that will bring forth the second golden age without the Gods. What else can I do? My mission is…"

"Couldn't be further from complete?" Ozric finished for him. "The four relics are still out there, waiting to be wielded by the hero to destroy the greatest evil of this world. That hero is supposed to be you. You were literally chosen by the Gods, I was handpicked to be your vessel, yet here you are, just as much a tyrant as your wife accused them of being."

"How could you possibly know of this?"

"Memory can be absorbed both ways, Ozma. I know who you are, the greatest hero of Equity," Ozma gripped the rail of the balcony harder. Equity was the name of the world when the Gods still resided in it. "The greatest swordsman, the greatest wizard, the hero who saved the lonely princess from her lonely tower, and defeated her tyrannical father. You were named 'The Doom of Tyrants'. And look at you now…"

"I am no tyrant."

"Look at what you have done. Open your eyes, as you should have a hundred years ago…"

Ozric died a second time after that. But with his death, Ozma saw things for what they were. The humans - No, his subjects were hungry, not for any lack of feeding them but for the fact that the population was growing too quickly. There was nothing to keep the population in check. The Grimm were exiled to the Grimmlands, there could be no wars as long as he and Salem were in control, and Salem had already provided with several cures to diseases. Additionally, there was nowhere left to expand. The realization dawned on him. In his blind affection for Salem, he could not see the harm that was being done to the world, to Equity…

All empires and kingdoms fell to time, but theirs would fall the hardest. There were no other lands to flee to. Something was going to give, the control they held over their people only existed for as long as they believed he and Salem held all the power.

"The world is out of balance…" Ozma found himself saying sorrowfully. "Without evil good will grow out of proportion. Yet too much evil will smother the world in darkness. There must be a balance… this will not last."

He had never told Salem of his true mission, what he was really sent to do. It wasn't just the kindness of the God of Light that sent him back to remnant of the world he had once had a life on. So that was what he did, to make her understand. He wanted her to help him make the change that was needed.

What she said in response, shocked him.

"Let's start over then," Salem said, so casually. "Wipe the slate clean. Then when we get to this point next time, we do it again. Again and again, for the rest of eternity."

Ozma stared at her, shocked. "What?"

Salem shrugged. "Humans only live because of us. They were never meant for anything else, I think we both knew that. If it weren't for us they'd just be killing themselves anyway, or the Grimm would do it for them. We can start here in the capital, and then make our way to every city and cull them there too-"

"Stop!" Ozma gripped her shoulders. "This is… Do you have any idea what you are even suggesting? That would be genocide! It would be evil!"

Salem scoffed at him. Laughed. "If you think I'd be willing to bring those relics anywhere near each other after what those bastards did, then you haven't gotten to know me well enough this past century."

"Salem." Ozma stepped away from her, his eyes wide, his skin pale and sweaty. "What… What happened to you?"

Salem sighed, shaking her head gently as she sat down, and took a sip from a glass of wine. "The Gods, Ozma. The Gods happened. This is what they wrought. If it bothers you so much, you won't need to join me. I'll start on the morrow with or without you."

Ozma didn't know what to say to her. But at that moment, he knew that the God of Light was right. Salem was not the same woman he married all those years ago. The lonely young woman he saved from that tower died the day she was made immortal.

That night, Ozma took his daughters and prepared them to flee from the castle they had made their home in. They were confused, but followed his orders to the letter. But their confusion led to them making noise, too much noise. Ozma felt his heart drop as he turned the corner and saw Salem standing in their way, the dark, blackened veins in her body pulsating once again, and her eyes glowing an evil crimson with black sclera.

No words were said between the two of them. Ozma waved his daughters away from behind his back. Hoping they would see it as the desperate plea that it was. He knew what would come next, and knew that he could not win, even if he was the more powerful of the two of them. He dared to hope however, that Salem wouldn't attack while their daughters were right there behind him.

But he was wrong.

Salem roared a monstrous roar as black and red waves of energy exploded from her body, shattering the castle around them. Ozma responded in kind, creating a green shield to catch the falling debris and project away the stone. He looked behind him at his daughters, seeing only three of them stuck close enough to be protected by his shield. A red stain growing in size beneath the stone behind him.

"RUN!" He screamed, not letting himself the grief that he ought to have felt. "RUN AWAY!" He yelled to his three remaining daughters. He lunged forward, gripping his hands around Salem's throat, ceasing her roar. He squeezed as hard as he could while carrying her back. Crashing her through a wall, and squeezing even harder as he slammed her through the floor and into the basement. He heard Salem's neck crack, his beloved, and felt tears well up in his eyes.

Salem's eyes opened, despite the fatal injury, her bones, skin, and flesh contorted as she forced her neck to move so that she could face him. Her mouth opened, red light coming up from her throat. Ozma yelped and flew off of her, creating a disc to shield himself from the flame that came from her mouth. When his hands left her throat, the bones stitched back together and she was perfectly healthy within the moment. Ozma felt tears fall down his face as he looked down at the woman that used to be his wife through the flames.

"I'm sorry." Ozma said in his head. "I'm so, so, sorry…"

Their battle lasted a full day. Ozma was correct in his analysis, in his current form at this current time, he was indeed more powerful than Salem. However, he couldn't do enough damage to annihilate her body past the point where her immortality could bring her back. He tried decapitating her, tearing her apart, disemboweling her, freezing her in ice, drowning her in water, burning her beyond recognition. None of it worked, she always came back, angrier than before. The castle they were battling in was now a pile of burning, electric rubble. Ozma was exhausted, and with every death, Salem was rejuvenated.

He prepared for his final gambit, hoping perhaps foolishly that at least one of daughters had managed to escape. He clasped his hands together, slowly separating and watching as crackling green lightning took form and condensed into a ball of pure energy. His eyes glowed, the last of his magical essence being poured into this final attack. His sorrow, his regret, and his guilt all being used to form the determination it required to fight to his last. Salem was still reeling from his last attack, half of her face and one of her legs were still missing. Giving him all the time he needed to prepare this final attack.

A piercing blast of green and white light eclipsed Salem's body, turning her to ash instantly, and blowing up what remained of the castle. The blast sent him flying away as well, and he let himself crash into the fiery remains of the castle he had once called home. He just lied there, feeling the flames burn his once regal clothing. The cloak he had wore acted as a sponge for fire. He burned alive contently, sighing as the life within him began to end.

Before his world turned dark, his head fell to the side and saw Salem's ash reform again. He felt his heart drop, his hope die. Salem stumbled over to him, her face riddled with anger and sadness.

"What have you done!?" She screamed at him.

"We finally had freedom…" She said in both lament and anger.

Ozma opened his mouth to respond.

Flame engulfed him, reducing his body to ash. Only his body wouldn't regenerate like Salem's did.

This is going to be a story of Ozpin's previous lives, as you guys probably would have figured out by now. It's not going to be a super long one, and this chapter is short only because of the fact that we already know the biggest parts of what happened in Ozma's first reincarnation. I just added some extra flavor to it. From this point on however, it's all brand new territory.

I'll update this as the moods come and go, but I'll definitely come back to it. Like I said it won't be a long story, I have like 10 chapters mentally planned. Just for fun.