Rwby Watches Death Battle

Silver burned. Holy light seared. I screamed my brother’s name, Theron, into the communication crystal. My consciousness was fading. His cold voice finally crackled through. "What now?" I fought through the pain, my voice weak. "Theron, please… help me…" He cut me off, his voice a razor's edge. "Enough! Lilith is hosting the Blood Moon Festival. Stop causing trouble. If you’re tormenting her out of jealousy again, I’ll throw you in the sun cells myself." The line went dead. Lilith. Our manipulative little adoptive sister. Was she really more important to him than his own blood? The silver poison and searing light consumed me. I shattered. My tears turned to ash, my body right behind them. Congratulations, Theron. You're free of your annoying sister. You don't have to lock me up anymore. Because I'm already dead.

Alice Long and I were caught in the crossfire. When my boyfriend—a combat medic responsible for saving the wounded—came to our rescue, he pushed me aside. Gently cradling Alice, the girl I had shielded, he shot me a cold glance and said, "Crystal, I'm deeply disappointed in you. She needs immediate care to avoid infection!" What about me? Was I meant to die instead? When my flag-draped coffin arrived home, he had the nerve to weep openly at my memorial. This once-renowned combat medic, celebrated around the globe, never set foot outside his room again.

During a battle between packs, both my adopted sister Chloe and I were injured. A Rogue tore me apart, leaving me a mangled heap of flesh and blood. My wolf was already fading from my spirit. But my Alpha mate, Damon, ran straight to Chloe. She had nothing more than a scratch on her face. He refused to use his Alpha power to save me, blaming me for the entire disaster. "Elena, if you hadn't slowed us down, none of this would have happened! How could Chloe have gotten hurt?" "You're not worth wasting the pack's resources on." In the end, I was left for dead in the forest, unclaimed and forgotten. And when the truth came out that I had died to save him? That cold-blooded Alpha who rejected me so viciously went insane.

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

It had been ten years, and Ethan—my mate—and I still didn’t have a pup. One day, he suggested we adopt one from the Werewolf Orphan Charity Agency. “My mate,” he said gently, “pregnancy is too hard for you. You’d have to go through so many checkups and herbs. Your wolf shouldn’t have to suffer like that.” When others heard this, they all said Ethan loved me deeply—that he couldn’t bear to see me in pain. But I saw the truth with my own eyes. He took an infant pup from another she-wolf. “Luckily, Mia isn’t pregnant,” he said. “That way, the excuse of adopting an infant works—and the pup can have a legitimate status in my clan.” I knew that she-wolf well. The same one Ethan used to call a “stupid omega.” Swallowing the bitterness in my heart, I called my mentor at the Werewolf Research Academy. “I want to devote myself to herb research,” I said calmly. Three days from now, during the pup’s first New Moon blessing, I’ll fake my death in a fire. No one will be able to stop me.

My husband's first love, Annie Quinn, suffers from a nosebleed. He decides to stuff me into the fridge and make me write a letter of apology in order to punish me. "Tie up the entire fridge with a coil of rope and leave it in the wine cellar. Let her atone for her sins there quietly." I keep pounding against the fridge door with all my might, even as it makes me bleed all over the place. I hope Nathan Grayson, my husband, can let me out. Instead, Nathan takes Annie on a trip to Arci where they have fun skiing and watching the penguins waddle about. One week later, Nathan opens the fridge after returning from his trip. The moment he lays eyes on my rotten corpse, he loses his mind on the spot.

After I donated my kidney to my movie star girlfriend, she finally agreed to marry me. On our wedding day, Vanessa Laurent left only a video of herself jumping off a cliff, then disappeared. I led a desperate search and rescue at the mountain base for three days straight. Even when a falling boulder crushed my leg, I kept going. When I finally dragged myself to the scene with my last shred of strength, I found Vanessa tangled up with Mason Miller, her late sister's husband. Her usually cold expression was flushed, her thighs red and swollen. When our eyes met, she did not even flinch. "Today is my sister's death anniversary. Mason was going to kill himself to follow her, so I had no choice but to sleep with him. From now on, I'll fulfill my duties to both of you." Mason looked down at me with contempt. "You don't mind if I consummate with Vanessa first, do you? You can wait for your turn." Everyone expected me to explode, but I just smiled. "Of course." I was done with Vanessa. I would never be with her again.

My father is the First Warrior of the Moonflash pack. He often takes me to all kinds of banquets, and I always look forward to them. Today, he brings me to a banquet hosted by Judy. I take a bite of raw meat on my plate and immediately spit it out. I once ate raw meat when I was younger, and my stomach hurt for several days. I nearly died. The healer later told me that I'm allergic to the protein in raw meat, and that experience left a lasting impression on me. Judy looks hurt when she sees my reaction. "I went to the forest myself to catch that reindeer," she says. "I killed it just this morning. I didn't cook it so that I wouldn't ruin its freshness. I didn't expect Ray would turn her nose up at it." Dad is angry about how rude I am, so he chases me out of the banquet and locks me up in a cramped lounge. The lounge is hot and stuffy, and I soon start finding it hard to breathe. A sharp pain twists in my stomach like a knife. I want to find Dad, but no matter how much I bang on the door, he refuses to open it. Through the window, I can see Dad and Judy standing in the center of the hall. They're conversing happily, but no one even looks in my direction. I'm suffocating, so I lie on the floor. I want to shout for Dad, but I can't make a sound no matter how hard I try. Then, I realize that I'm standing up and can walk through the door. But why is my body still lying on the floor? That's when it hits me. I'm dead.

"Miss Elara, this confirms the arrangement for your 'staged death.' In two weeks, at the Luna coronation ceremony, your death will be staged." "You will fall into the rapids, and the cause will be poisoning by wolfsbane." When my Alpha mate, Aiden, abandoned me again for "urgent pack business," I found a rogue on the black market and signed the staged death agreement without a second thought. The entire werewolf world believed Alpha Aiden was madly in love with me. He certainly played the part, never forgetting to kiss my forehead every time he left. But only I knew that for the thirty-ninth time he kissed me, he had also spent the night lost in a drunken haze with that Omega model, Cassia. But none of that mattered anymore. A tainted Alpha, I was done with him. At the coronation he treasured most, I would ensure he received the most perfect corpse.

On the road, I met a woman unlike anyone I had ever seen before. Her name was Janet Smith. She seemed slow and almost childlike, yet she had been wandering alone for two years without ever going home. Even with one leg crippled, she had forced herself to climb the Highveil Mountains. This time, however, she was caught in a blizzard. Injured and stranded, she could no longer make her way down. As her vision blurred and her strength slipped away, tears covered her face. She placed a pair of small handmade clay dolls in my hands. "I'm probably going to die here," she murmured. "Please give these to my adoptive brother, Chester Graham." She was clearly at death's door, yet her smile was soft and unexpectedly serene. "Tell him I've seen enough of the world. I don't love him anymore. And tell him he doesn't need to worry. I'm not so foolish now. I won't cause trouble for anyone again." Chester? At the sound of his name, I stood rooted to the spot. In Riverton City, everyone who worked at the harbor knew him, the so-called Ship King. Right before I left for the mountains, news of his engagement had been everywhere.