Author's Note:

The following Fanfic is an Experimental Fanfic to see to see if it takes off and does well. RWBY is now owned by VIZ Media and was created by Monty Oum.

This fanfic was spawned out of an idea I had for a while. And was like: What if Salem was NOT the true leader of the Grimm. Its takes place during Volume V, but hopefully, this one will be better than what we got from Rooster Teeth.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.

-KING OF THE HORDE-

-Prologue: Enter the King-

The wind whispered through the dense trees of Anima, carrying with it a haunting stillness that seemed to smother the natural sounds of the forest. No birds sang, no leaves rustled, and the air itself felt heavy, as though the woods were holding their breath in collective dread. The only sound was the faint crunch of footsteps against the forest floor, deliberate and measured, each step radiating an unspoken command.

Through the shadows, he emerged—a figure that defied the natural order. His snow-white skin seemed to glow faintly, a stark contrast to the inky black robes that flowed around his form like living shadows. Thick, messy black hair framed a face that was both haunting and mesmerizing, a visage carved in sharp lines of intensity. His eyes were the most unsettling feature, red irises glowing with cold, heartless resolve, set against sclera as dark as ink. He did not speak, yet his silence was deafening. A sickly blood-red aura pulsed faintly around him, an unsettling light that seemed to sap the color and vitality from the forest.

Around him, the Creatures of Grimm slithered and prowled. Beowolves snarled low in their throats, their eyes glowing with malicious intent. A pair of Ursai lumbered nearby, their massive forms rippling with raw power. Even a towering Nuckelavee trailed behind, its grotesque form casting a long shadow across the moonlit ground. The Grimm were not bound by chains, but by something far more primal: fear and reverence. They moved in perfect synchronization with him, a tide of darkness that obeyed his every unspoken command.

He stopped abruptly, his gaze sweeping the forest with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the gloom. He was searching for something, though what it was remained a mystery even to the Grimm that followed him. His movements were methodical, every step calculated, every pause deliberate. It was as though the forest itself recoiled from him, the ground darkening where his feet had touched, leaves wilting in his wake.

He raised a hand, pale and flawless, but radiating an unnatural chill. The creatures halted instantly, their snarls and growls silenced as though a spell had been cast over them. His hand lingered in the air for a moment before he lowered it, and the Grimm parted, forming a wide circle around him. At the center of this unholy court, he knelt, pressing a hand to the ground. The blood-red glow around him intensified, seeping into the earth like venom.

The forest responded. The ground trembled faintly, and the air grew colder. The trees groaned as though in agony, their branches curling away from him. Whatever he sought, it eluded him, yet he did not falter. His expression remained unreadable, his crimson eyes betraying neither frustration nor despair. There was only determination, cold and unyielding.

Suddenly, a faint shimmer flickered in the distance, a ripple of light barely visible through the dense forest. He rose to his feet, his robes billowing with the movement. The red glow around him flared brighter for an instant, and the Grimm growled in unison, their focus shifting toward the disturbance.

Without a word, he began to move again, his steps as silent as death itself. The Grimm followed, a swarm of darkness that swallowed the light as they advanced. The forest seemed to twist and warp around them, the natural world bending to his will.

Though his lips never moved, his presence spoke volumes. Power. Authority. And a promise of ruin.

He would find what he was searching for. And when he did, the world would tremble.

~o0o~

The sun had barely begun its ascent over the sprawling city of Mistral as Ruby Rose, her uncle Qrow, and Team RNJR stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the kingdom. The view was breathtaking, a cascade of structures carved into the mountain's face, each tier bustling with life. Golden sunlight bathed the upper levels, reflecting off ornate roofs and glinting against intricate carvings that adorned the architecture. The higher tiers of Mistral exuded wealth and elegance, with lush gardens spilling over terraces and cobbled streets alive with vendors and performers.

But below that glittering facade, the lower levels of the city were another world entirely. Shadows clung to the alleys, and the structures became more haphazard, built from wood and patched metal instead of polished stone. Smoke rose in thin wisps from chimneys, mingling with the faint scent of spice and decay. The lower districts buzzed with a different kind of energy, raw and chaotic, a stark contrast to the refined tranquility above.

"Stick to the top levels," Qrow advised, his gravelly voice cutting through the early morning stillness. He leaned on his weapon-turned-walking-stick, his sharp eyes scanning the city below. "The lower districts… let's just say they're not the kind of place you want to go sightseeing. Plenty of trouble to be found down there if you're not careful."

Ruby nodded, her silver eyes wide with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Got it. Stay up top. Easy enough." She adjusted Crescent Rose on her back, her enthusiasm undamped by her uncle's warning.

"Doesn't look so bad," Jaune Arc ventured, though his voice betrayed his unease. He scratched the back of his head, his gaze flitting nervously between the upper and lower levels. "Kind of reminds me of Vale, in a way."

"Yeah, if Vale had a sketchy basement," Qrow quipped, smirking. "Look, Mistral's beautiful, sure. But it's got its fair share of problems. Just keep your heads down and stick together."

The group began their descent along the winding path that led into the city proper. The air grew warmer as they moved closer, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the tang of distant ocean air. Merchants called out to early risers from colorful stalls, their voices carrying the cadence of a hundred different dialects. Performers spun ribbons of silk in dazzling displays, drawing small crowds that clapped and cheered.

"This place is amazing!" Nora Valkyrie exclaimed, spinning around to take in the sights. Her bright energy was infectious, and even the usually stoic Ren allowed a small smile to cross his face.

"Just remember why we're here," Qrow reminded them, his tone sober. "Enjoy the sights, but don't let your guard down."

Ruby glanced at her teammates, her resolve hardening. They had made it this far, and while the path ahead was uncertain, she knew they were ready for whatever challenges awaited them in Mistral.

~o0o~

Weiss Schnee sat near the window of the airship, her pale blue eyes fixed on the endless expanse of clouds outside. The hum of the engines filled the cabin, a constant reminder of how far she was from the life she had once known. Her fingers curled around the hilt of Myrtenaster, her thoughts swirling like the storm she had left behind in Atlas. She couldn't stop thinking about Ruby. Was she safe? Was she still the same bright, optimistic leader who had kept them together through so much?

The passengers around her paid her little mind, their conversations blending into a dull background noise. Weiss found herself longing for the comfort of familiarity—her teammates, their shared laughter, and even the chaotic energy of their adventures. But most of all, she missed the sense of purpose they had given her. She had to find Ruby. She had to make things right.

~o0o~

Blake Belladonna stood on the shore of Menagerie, the salty breeze tugging at her dark hair. The horizon stretched endlessly before her, the water shimmering under the midday sun. But her thoughts were far from serene. She had come home seeking allies, but the road had been anything but smooth. Her people were wary, their trust in humans fractured and their willingness to fight even more so.

Blake's golden eyes narrowed as she turned back toward the village. Her father's voice echoed in her mind, urging her to be patient, to understand the scars that ran deep in their community. But patience wasn't something she could afford. Ruby was out there, and every moment spent here felt like a moment wasted. Still, she couldn't leave without trying to rally support. She wouldn't abandon Ruby—or the cause they had all sworn to fight for.

~o0o~

Yang Xiao Long revved the engine of her motorcycle, the roar of the machine drowning out the sound of the dirt road beneath her tires. Her long blonde hair whipped behind her, a golden streak against the rugged backdrop of Anima's wilderness. Her mechanical arm gripped the handlebars tightly, the weight of it a constant reminder of how much she had lost—and how much she still had to fight for.

Her thoughts drifted to Ruby. Her little sister. The one who had always looked up to her, even when Yang didn't feel worthy of that admiration. She had to find her. She had to protect her. The road ahead was uncertain, but Yang's determination burned brighter than ever. She leaned forward, the speed of her bike carrying her closer to Mistral… and to Ruby.

~o0o~

In the dim light of her lair, Salem stood tall and imposing, her pale skin glowing faintly in the flickering firelight. The room was cavernous, with walls adorned in dark, twisting patterns that seemed to writhe under the light's touch. Her hands moved with a cold precision as she mixed a viscous, dark liquid in a shallow basin, her crimson eyes focused and unyielding.

Behind her, Cinder Fall knelt, her body tense with pain and shame. Her left arm, or what remained of it, was tightly wrapped in a dark bandage, and her once-glowing eye now bore the dull sheen of defeat. She flinched as Salem turned, carrying the basin toward her with an expression devoid of pity.

"You have failed me," Salem's voice was smooth, but laced with a chilling undercurrent that made Cinder's shoulders tighten. The Witch's presence filled the room, suffocating and inescapable. "And yet, you are still here. That is… interesting."

Cinder said nothing, her gaze fixed on the ground. Speaking out of turn could provoke Salem's wrath, and she could not afford that now—not in her weakened state.

Salem knelt beside her, dipping a cloth into the basin. The liquid glimmered faintly, as though imbued with dark magic. "You allowed yourself to be bested by a child," she continued, her tone never rising but cutting all the same. "Explain to me how that happened."

Cinder winced as the cloth pressed against her arm, the liquid burning like fire before dulling to a cold numbness. "I underestimated her," she admitted, her voice low. "She's… stronger than she looks."

Salem let out a faint, humorless laugh. "Strength is nothing without purpose. And you—" she paused, meeting Cinder's eyes, "—have yet to prove you understand that."

The silence that followed was heavy. Salem's movements were deliberate as she tended to Cinder's wounds, her touch almost gentle but for the stinging magic that accompanied it. Despite her words, there was a strange care in the way she worked, as though preserving Cinder's life was a matter of importance, even if only for her own schemes.

"When I gave you power, I expected results," Salem said finally, standing and moving to place the basin on a nearby table. "You have one more chance to prove your worth to me, Cinder. Do not squander it."

Cinder's gaze hardened, the pain in her body eclipsed by a burning resolve. "I won't fail you again," she vowed, her voice steady despite the trembling of her hand.

Salem regarded her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a wave of her hand, she dismissed her. "See that you don't."

As Cinder rose and turned to leave the chamber, the air seemed to shift. The oppressive stillness was interrupted by a faint but steady sound—footsteps, deliberate and heavy, echoing through the vast hall. Cinder froze in place, her eyes widening as a figure emerged from the shadows.

He stepped forward, his inky black robes billowing slightly, the sickly blood-red glow that surrounded him illuminating the dim chamber. His red irises locked onto Salem, blazing with unbridled wrath. The sclera of his eyes, black as void, only deepened the intensity of his gaze. Despite the palpable silence, his presence spoke louder than words, and the air grew colder as he advanced.

Salem's crimson eyes narrowed, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides. "Oh, you're back? Did you not find what you were looking for?"

The man didn't reply—he never did. But the glare he fixed upon her was enough to convey the weight of his emotions. Hatred, raw and untempered, burned in his eyes, and for the first time, a shadow of uncertainty crossed Salem's face.

Cinder, sensing the brewing tension, took a cautious step back, her injuries momentarily forgotten. Her gaze darted between the two figures, the fear she harbored for Salem now eclipsed by the sheer, overwhelming dread radiating from the newcomer. It was as though she was staring into a deep, bottomless pit, one so vast and dark that it seemed to swallow all light and hope. The sheer magnitude of the power emanating from him was suffocating, a force so overwhelming that her legs buckled beneath her. She fell to her knees, her breath coming in shallow gasps as an unshakable chill coursed through her. The room felt as though it were collapsing inward, the atmosphere heavy with an unseen but undeniable presence that made even the Witch Queen seem small in comparison.

The man halted, his cold, red eyes never leaving Salem's. The silence that followed was deafening, a moment suspended in time before the tension threatened to snap. Cinder could see it—the way Salem's posture stiffened, the slight narrowing of her eyes. She was trying to hide it, but the Witch Queen was nervous. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly, a rare crack in her usually impenetrable facade. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the clash of wills that now hung in the balance.

The man raised his index finger, pointing upward with deliberate precision, and then spoke, his deep, resonant voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "The master has had enough of this… 'meaningless' conflict," he declared, the words laced with contempt. Slowly, he turned his gaze to Cinder, his crimson eyes narrowing as he extended the same finger toward her.

"You," he said, the word carrying the weight of an unspoken threat, "are to locate the Spring Maiden. Now."

His head turned sharply to the doors, where two figures lingered in the shadows—Emerald and Mercury, their attempts to remain hidden proving futile. His eyes locked onto them, and the suffocating pressure in the room intensified tenfold.

Emerald froze, her body trembling as she tried to shrink further into the darkness. Mercury's face twisted into a scowl, but even his usual bravado faltered under the man's piercing gaze. Before either could react, the man moved. It was a blur of motion, faster than the eye could track, and in an instant, he was in front of Mercury.

Salem's crimson eyes widened ever so slightly, a fleeting crack in her composure, as she barely registered the movement. Cinder's heart leapt into her throat as she stared, unable to process what had happened until it was over.

The man's hand, pale and precise, was already withdrawing, the sickly red glow around him flickering ominously. Mercury staggered, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Emerald's strangled cry broke the suffocating silence, her hands flying to her mouth as she backed away, her eyes wide with terror.

The man didn't spare a second glance at the body. His gaze, colder than ever, shifted back to Salem. The room felt as though it were teetering on the edge of collapse, the oppressive atmosphere bearing down on all within it. Salem's trembling fingers tightened into fists, her composure fracturing further under the weight of his unrelenting stare. Her whole frame quivered now, the faint tremor betraying a deep and unfamiliar dread.

Emerald, pressed against the doorframe, stifled a sob as the man turned his attention toward her. His gaze was cold and deliberate, and for a moment, her breath caught in her throat. The oppressive air seemed to focus entirely on her, and her knees nearly buckled under the intensity of his presence.

"You," he said, his voice like ice cracking in a frozen lake. "You are still useful for now." The faintest flicker of contempt crossed his expression before he turned away.

Without another word, the man began to stride toward the exit. Each step seemed to drain the room of warmth, leaving behind an eerie stillness. As he passed through the threshold, the oppressive weight lifted slightly, but the damage had been done. Salem's posture remained rigid, her trembling fists slowly unclenching, though her eyes stayed fixed on the door long after the figure had disappeared.

Cinder's voice broke the silence, weak but filled with desperate curiosity. "Who… who or what was he?" she asked, her words trembling as much as her body.

Salem did not turn to face her. Her crimson eyes remained locked on the door, her voice cold and laden with an undercurrent of fear. "The undisputed King of the Grimm…"

"Asmodeus."

Author's Note:

I hope you enjoyed this new fanfic, more on the way soon. Peace out.