RWBY: Moon Reflection-Chapter 111: The Aftermath

For the next week, Crimson remained in his hospital bed, resting and recovering. The days passed in a whirlwind of visitors, each bringing their own energy and emotions. Qrow and Raven were among the first to visit, their faces a mixture of relief and uncharacteristic joy. Despite their usual guarded natures, both seemed genuinely happy to see him alive and awake.

"You scared everyone half to death," Qrow said, his voice low but warm. "But I guess you've got a knack for making it through impossible odds."

Raven nodded, her expression softer than Crimson had ever seen. "You've done something none of us could," she said simply.

As the days went on, more familiar faces appeared. Soldiers from Atlas, members of Mantle's community, and even people Crimson barely remembered all stopped by to thank him or simply to see the man who had become a symbol of their victory.

One day, Ironwood arrived, accompanied by Winter Schnee. The general's usually stern face was relaxed, his demeanor lighter than usual. Ironwood placed a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to stay at ease.

"Crimson," Ironwood began, his voice filled with gratitude, "thanks to your actions, we won the war. You gave us hope when we had none, and the entire world owes you a debt it can never repay."

To Crimson's surprise, Ironwood then bowed deeply, a gesture of immense respect that caught the young man off guard. Winter followed suit, her face filled with admiration.

"You are a model to all of us," she said, her voice steady but reverent. "Your courage, your determination—it's something I'll always look up to."

Crimson blinked, clearly uncomfortable with the display. He raised a hand, a weak but genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, alright, stop," he said with a chuckle. "I didn't do all that for free, you know."

Ironwood straightened, a look of surprise crossing his face. Crimson continued, his smile widening slightly. "I expect a paid vacation and maybe an end-of-year bonus."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Ironwood laughed, a rare and genuine sound that seemed to lift the room's heavy atmosphere. "You've earned that and more, Crimson. I'll make sure you get it. For now, focus on getting healthy."

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As more visitors came and went, one group in particular surprised Crimson the most. A mother and her two daughters entered his room, their faces lighting up the moment they saw him. Crimson's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to place them, but the mother quickly explained.

"We're from Kuchinashi," she said with a smile. "We saw the broadcast and recognized you immediately. My daughters wouldn't stop asking to come and meet their hero."

The two girls stepped forward shyly, their smiles bright but tentative. Crimson's memories stirred, and he finally remembered—the frightened, silent children he had once helped in the city of Kuchinashi. Back then, they couldn't even speak, their voices stolen by trauma. Now, they were chatting happily, their words filled with life and innocence.

"You've grown a lot," Crimson said, his tone warm as he knelt slightly to their level. The girls giggled, one of them reaching out to touch his hand gently.

"Thank you," the older girl said, her voice clear and confident. "You saved us, and now you've saved everyone."

Ruby, Yang, Weiss, and Blake stood at the side, watching the interaction with soft smiles. Ruby's eyes glistened with tears as she whispered, "He really is a hero, isn't he?"

Yang nodded, her own expression filled with pride. "Yeah, he is."

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Another week passed, and Crimson was finally discharged from the hospital. Most of his injuries had healed, though the scars on his hands remained—permanent reminders of the battle he had fought. As he stepped outside into the crisp air, the sun on his face for the first time in weeks, he felt an odd mixture of relief and melancholy.

The streets were quieter now, not because of peace but because so many were gone, and those who remained were too burdened to fill the silence.

Crimson sighed, his breath misting in the frosty air. Memories of the battle flashed in his mind—people fighting, falling, and the devastating price they had all paid. Ruby and Pyrrha flanked him, their presence grounding him as they walked through the city to visit those they still could.

Their first stop was Lie Ren. The door to his room creaked open, revealing the young huntsman sitting on a chair, staring out of the window. His right sleeve hung empty where his arm used to be. Despite the faint smile he offered when they entered, the tiredness in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Crimson," Ren greeted softly, nodding.

"Ren," Crimson said, his voice gentle. He glanced at the empty sleeve and then at Nora, who stood behind Ren with her arms crossed, an almost protective aura around her.

Nora looked up, her eyes fierce but tinged with pain. "He's going to be fine," she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly. "Ironwood promised to make him a prosthetic—once they can manage it."

Ren chuckled lightly, though it was devoid of true humor. "It's not just about the arm," he admitted, glancing back out the window. "So many... didn't make it. And those who did... we'll never be the same."

Crimson placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're still here, Ren. That means something. To all of us."

Ren nodded but didn't respond. Nora's hand came to rest on his good shoulder, and Crimson gave them both a small smile before they moved on.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

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Their next stop was the training grounds, where Elm and Clover were overseeing soldiers. Elm walked with a noticeable limp, her right leg replaced by a prosthetic that clicked faintly with every step. The once boisterous woman seemed smaller, her energy dimmed.

"Crimson!" Elm greeted with her trademark volume, though the enthusiasm was clearly forced. "Look at you, walking around like nothing happened."

Crimson offered a soft smile. "It's good to see you up and about, Elm."

She chuckled, but it lacked her usual warmth. "Yeah, well, can't keep a soldier down, right?" Her gaze drifted to the recruits practicing nearby. "Plenty of work to do."

Clover approached, his usually calm demeanor now tinged with weariness. "We're doing our best to keep things together," he said. "But it's not easy. We've lost... so many."

Elm nodded, her expression softening. "Every time I look at the soldiers, I see the ones who aren't here anymore. And the kingdom..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked down, her shoulders heavy.

"You're doing everything you can," Pyrrha said gently. "That's all anyone can ask for."

Elm's smile returned, faint but genuine. "Thanks, Pyrrha. It's just hard, you know?"

Crimson nodded, understanding their pain. "You're both stronger than you think. Atlas is lucky to have you."

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Finally, Crimson made his way to the command center, where General Ironwood and Winter were coordinating recovery efforts. The room was alive with activity—officers issuing orders, maps and charts scattered across tables, and the faint hum of holographic projections. Despite the chaos, Ironwood and Winter stood at the center, their presence commanding.

"Crimson," Ironwood greeted as the young specialist approached. "Good to see you up and moving."

"General," Crimson replied with a nod. "I thought I'd check in... and see how Atlas is holding up."

Ironwood sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "The truth?" he said, his voice heavy. "It's bad. Half the army is either dead or injured. The rest are tired, overworked, and struggling to keep up."

Winter, standing beside him, added, "We're managing thanks to the support of the other kingdoms. The world has seen everything—what we've faced, what we've lost. Broadcasting the battle to the world turned out to be the right decision."

Ironwood nodded in agreement. "The aid we've received has been overwhelming. Food and water shortages are under control, and some parts of the kingdom have power and heating again. But rebuilding everything..." He sighed deeply. "It'll take years."

Crimson folded his arms, absorbing the gravity of the situation. "And Salem?"

Ironwood's expression hardened. "We've secured her in Argus prison. Before the war, it was the second most secure facility after Atlas. Now it's the most fortified place on Remnant. The kingdoms and trusted huntsmen have been informed, and Argus currently hosts the largest gathering of soldiers and huntsmen in the world—all there to ensure Salem stays imprisoned."

Crimson nodded. "The world saw what she's capable of. They know she can't be killed, and given enough time, she will build another army. Keeping her imprisoned... it's the only option."

Ironwood's lips thinned, but he nodded. "It's not a permanent solution, but it's what we have. For now, she's contained. That's what matters."

Winter added, "The unity between the kingdoms is unprecedented. It may be the only silver lining in all of this."

Crimson sighed, glancing at the map of Atlas on the table. "It's good to hear the kingdoms are working together. We'll need that unity to rebuild and to face whatever comes next."

Ironwood clapped a hand on Crimson's shoulder, a rare gesture of warmth from the hardened general. "You've done more than your part, Crimson. Take some time to rest. The world owes you that much."

The conversation shifted to lighter topics—logistics, recovery efforts, and updates on mutual acquaintances. Winter occasionally added her input, her tone professional but supportive. After some time, Crimson excused himself, leaving the command center behind.

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As he walked back through the streets of Atlas, Crimson's heart felt heavy but resolute. The scars of the battle were everywhere—in the ruins of buildings, the haunted expressions of the people, and the lingering pain in his own body. But amidst the destruction, there was also hope.

The world had united, and Atlas was slowly beginning to heal. It would take time, but Crimson knew they would endure. They had to. For those who had fallen, for those who remained, and for the future they all fought to protect.