Prologue

The ancient gears stirred, grinding against each other in a slow, methodical rhythm that had persisted for countless years. In the office of Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy, it was business as usual. Specifically, it was the time of year when all the aspiring young men and women of Remnant placed their hopes and ambitions on his school. With all the training they'd done under their belt, they'd applied to the Huntsman Academy of their choice, and if they were accepted, they would be faced with the opportunity to grow into the strong, righteous protectors of humanity they were meant to be.

It was Ozpin's favourite time of the year. It was always good to see fresh, enthusiastic new faces in his Academy, training to become the very best of the best. Now, of all times, they were needed. In recent years, the Grimm had gradually but indisputably grown in population. The amount of Grimm-related civilian casualties was growing out of acceptable boundaries.

Indeed, dark times were coming. But for now, it was still an era of peace for the men and women of Remnant. And the Huntsmen who graduated from this Academy-and those from the others across the continent-would do all that was in their power to preserve that peace.

"Hmm…I'm not sure about her…her background…in Mistral? It seems…humph. I suppose I'll have to check that out…" In the corner of the room, a young bespectacled blonde woman glanced at transcripts on a Scroll.

Ozpin smiled at her. Glynda Goodwitch, one of Beacon's finest prodigies and of the most talented students that he'd had the pleasure of teaching. That was quite a statement, considering he'd been its headmaster for as long as most men could remember. Young Glynda had always scored top marks, worked hard, and, underneath her gruff exterior, had a kind heart. Though she had graduated only two years ago, she had already risen through the ranks of the Academy and become Ozpin's secretary. She was one of the few people Oz trusted completely, and he appreciated her more than he could ever say.

Sipping his coffee, the headmaster scrolled through the news, taking it all in slowly. James Ironwood was quickly making momentum in his new military campaign. The Schnee Dust Company was growing more profitable by the day. The crime rates against Faunus were increasing.

"Tch!" Glynda said suddenly, disrupting him. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"No, nothing sir. Nothing you need to concern yourself with." She assured him. "It's just another one of those students who think they can get into Beacon with, well…less than stellar records."

"I see." She was right, it was not his concern. However, he did find his interest ever-so-slightly piqued. He gestured for her to hand him the Scroll, and she obeyed.

"Hmmm…" Ozpin glanced at the transcript. Glynda was right. This young woman from Vale was certainly not fit to study at Beacon. Her only training records were at a low-reputation combat school in the countryside, and her grades hadn't been particularly impressive. He sighed. It was always a shame to have to turn down such aspiring youths. He glanced at the girl's picture.

"I think it's time we made the registration process a bit stricter," Glynda noted, mostly to herself. "Honestly, the way it is now, it's a bit too loose for my taste. It wouldn't do to have some in-over-his-head punk cheat his way into our fine school, now would it?"

"…"

"Professor Ozpin?" she inquired. "Is everything all right?"

Ozpin did not answer. He had not even heard her. His mind was elsewhere, in times long gone, so long ago even the eldest man in Remnant had forgotten. The girl…this talentless girl with ambition far beyond her capabilities…with her short, dark hair and red streaks, with her shy, frightened smile that suggested she was afraid the camera itself would attack her…her eyes were the colour of a brilliant, silver steel.

"Professor Ozpin!" Glynda repeated loudly.

"Ah." Ozpin was taken back to reality. "My apologies, Glynda. If it is not too much of a trouble, may I request something?"

"Anything at all, sir."

"Good. Then I would like you to approve this girl's transcript."

Glynda's eyes widened. "But sir…she is not suited for Beacon! Surely you know that as well as I! Her records are abysmal-"

"I would not call them "abysmal," yet you are correct, they are not up to our Academy's standards."

"But then…why?"

Ozpin smiled wearily. "Why, indeed? I suppose you could call it…an intuition of mine."

"...Intuition? I don't quite follow…" Glynda's gaze turned serious. "…Sir. If I may ask, is this about-"

"Please, Glynda, just do as I have said. Answers will come, in time. They always do."

She hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "…All right, sir. I'll prepare the acceptance documents."

"Thank you, Glynda."

She left the room, and Ozpin was thus left alone to his thoughts.

"That girl…" he murmured. "Could it be?"

All was darkness. Every fabric of reality in one's sight, every last sensation in one's body…nothing but despair and rage existed in this world. Amongst the desolate landscape, the sky crimson like blood…were a mere mortal unfortunate to survive his first second within this nightmare, he would have no doubt that he had been condemned to the bowels of Hell itself.

Creatures of fear and disgust prowled the land, each growling for a craving that would never be fulfilled, and insatiable bloodlust that would withstand eternity. The Grimm. Large and small, young and old, from the common wolves to the abominations even the most fearless of Huntsmen had never even conceived in the darkest pits of their nightmares…all of them made their home here. And in the centre of it all…it rose.

"The time is approaching," the thing spoke. "Spoke" was not quite right. It was less of a voice and more of a projection that came from nowhere, yet everywhere. "Soon, our chance will come."

The thing was smiling to itself. Its enemy would make their move very soon. It had no intention of stopping them. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Let them plan their schemes.

Let them dream.

Let them hope.

And then…we will crush it all.