Disclaimer: I do not own God of War or RWBY. Both are properties of Santa Monica studios and RoosterTeeth respectively.

"Pretend to be everything you are not: teacher, husband, father. But there is one unavoidable truth you will never escape: You cannot change. You will always be...a monster." –Athena

Young Wolf

Volume 1:
"The Wolf"

PROLOGUE – A Wolf in the Snowy Forest

The cold winter in the isle was harsh, even in its infancy. Around this time of year, the villagers would take their axes and bows and go out into the forest, chopping down trees for firewood and hunting down venison for provisions. Fruit could last longer, but travel and delivery would be delayed by a great margin.

Already, two inches of snow has piled on to the forest floor. Few leaves remained on the branches, and the water had begun to freeze. The air was frigid, enough so that one could see their breath. Many animals had begun to go into hibernation. The only things prattling about would be deer and those that hunted the deer, such as foxes, wolves and the like. The birds were surprisingly scarce as well, no doubt hiding away inside the trees for warmth.

A few miles away from the village, an area within the forest was deathly still. Silence hanged over the area like a blanket. Squirrels rested leisurely atop the branches. A single deer drank from a waterfall in peace, unconcerned with its surroundings. Unknown to it, however, it was being stalked by a hunter. It resided in the shadows, patiently stalking its pray. Hiding in wait for the right moment. There it sat in wait in the thicket of bushes, its red eyes peering out from the shade. It dared not make a sound, lest it attract attention.

Seconds went by before the deer, having drank its fill, turned away. The snow crunched softly beneath its hooves as it left. It would return to its fellows and migrate further, hoping to find shelter before the cold winter finally settled. Once it did, they would have to be careful about where they traveled.

At this moment, the hunter pounced. A shadow leaped out from the thicket, colliding with the deer and ending its life in an instant. Its fangs sank into its neck and pushed down with all the force it could muster, breaking the deer's neck and ceasing any struggle it could muster. Its body went limp before it crashed into the snow.

The hunter was a wolf, its fur matching the color of the snow beneath it. It was far bigger than the average wolf, however. It also stood on its hind legs, claws looking capable of ripping apart whatever it could touch. Ivory spikes protruded out from its back, a mask settled over its face.

This was one of the many predators that humanity regularly battles. One of the Creatures of Grimm, known to stalk the forests and undefended roads of the Kingdoms of Mistral and Vale. A Beowolf.

Ordinarily, the Creatures of Grimm would be colored black, matching the terrifying nature they embodied. However, the Grimm in the isles were of another, more rare sort. Their rarity could be considered equal to an Elder Grimm – their older siblings that lived for countless years and gained intelligence in the process. Their long years, hunting and fighting in the unforgiving colds had led them to adapt. They were resilient to the elements. They had learned to become one with the snow. To hide in wait before delivering a killing blow.

You were far more likely to see an Albino Grimm here in the isles than you were elsewhere. They were also slightly stronger than the typical Grimm, though not to the point where a veteran Huntsman would have trouble killing it. The Beowolves were also known to hunt in packs, their actions and instincts perfectly mimicking a wolf.

However, this hunter was alone. It had been separated from the pack in search of a meal. It satiated its hunger, tearing and swallowing huge chunks of tender red meat from its fresh kill. It had to eat quickly, however. Though the winter was still settling in the isles, frost would soon cake the carcass and make it too tough to eat. It also needed to return to its pack. After all, the humans would be straying from their settlement to hunt. Provided a Huntsman was not present, they could hunt them to their leisure. They would make a better meal than this deer.

The white Beowolf greedily took another chunk of meat, swallowing it and letting the juices flow down its mouth before it went in to take another pause. It stopped when a strange scent entered into its nostrils. It smelled smoke and metal, and something unfamiliar to it. It could not recognize the unfamiliar scent, but it easily remembered what metal and smoke were like.

It was possible a human hunter had wandered close by. The hunter debated whether to hunt this smell or finish its meal and return to its pack. It glanced down at the deer, then snarled as it turned away in favor of better pray.

There was no better excitement than the thrill of the hunt.

The hunter pursued the unfamiliar smell, tracking it and going deeper into the forest. It eventually came to a stop, slowly its pace. It stilled and blended with the snow, eyeing its new target.

The weapon on their back confirmed its suspicions. It was a bow, or rather a pair of blades joined together to form a bow, as the ends bore sharpened edges. The quarry was a young one, barely reaching the age of adulthood. Their hair was copper red, with two tufts of hair sticking out from on top of their head. No, not tufts. Ears. The quarry had beast's blood in him. A wolf, perhaps. A thin coat with fur lining, odd markings etched into their right hand. Faintly, similar markings were on the back of their neck. Dark trousers with a bag strapped to their left leg. Male.

The hunter licked its fangs, a low growl rumbling from its throat.

The quarry was in the process of skinning an animal. A small rabbit, from the look of it. A small knife cut into the stomach, then pulled to create a cut. From there, the young prey began to slice off the fur.

It would be an easy kill. And a fine meal.

Tension built in its legs. It waited. Waiting to see if they noticed. Finally, the Albino Beowolf sprung into action, leaping out from its hiding place and maw opened to snap its quarry's neck.

It should have been easy. A swift bite to kill in an instant. But the quarry was smarter than it looked. At the least second, it let itself hit the snow on its back and let the hunter smack into the tree it was in front of. It smashed straight through it, the thin tower of wood falling to the white floor beneath them. Dazed by the sudden impact, the Beowolf growled and shook its head before it aimed a glare at its quarry, only to snarl in confusion.

Its prey was gone. It had vanished. It was quick to flee. Useless. The hunter would continue to hunt the prey. It raised its head and sniffed the air, tracking its smell. It's eyes widened in alarm when it turned its head.

Just in time for its mark to sever its head, bow now twin blades that easily cut through flesh and bone. Its head was sent flying, soaring through the air before touching the snow. The body stilled before it collapsed into a heap, no longer able to move. Seconds later, its body began to break down into wisps of smoke, leaving no trace of the proud hunter of human and animal alike.

The young hunter breathed a small sigh, blue eyes not leaving the corpse as if watching to see if it would come alive. Once it saw that it was dead for good, he lowered his blades but did not loosen his grip. Instead, he chose to survey his surroundings. The air had become quiet, but something lingered. He could feel it. A growing sense of malicious intent, slowly approaching.

Not far away, he saw snow shifting. No, not snow. Grimm. Their furs blended together with the snow like excellent camouflage. It made him wonder how many villagers fell prey to these monsters because of that.

The tension didn't leave him. He took count of the number of beasts heading his way. It was most likely the pack, having been drawn by the commotion.

"Keep your blades steady. Remain focused. Do not become distracted." a voice reminded him. A face of ash with red eyes stared at him as he spoke. "Feet spaced, hips square. Keep track of your foe. When they come within range, strike the first blow. Do not relent."

He spaced his feet apart, the snow shifting beneath him. His hands went to his wrists, twisting the tiny rotors attached to the wristbands he wore before giving his blades a swipe, cutting through the air. Satisfied with the small change in weight, he prepared himself.

"Do not grow arrogant. Plan your next strike carefully." the man continued to speak. "Your blades are meant to attack multiple foes. Wield your bow when you face a singular enemy. Keep track of them. Never lose sight of them. Never expose your back to them. That is a weakness."

Yellow eyes appeared. White bipedal beasts appeared, standing on hind legs when they saw him. They knew instantly that he had killed one of their own. In anger, they howled towards the sky. They were declaring their intent to avenge their brother.

"Anger is a weapon. A powerful weapon. But it must be wielded wisely. You must temper it. Control it. Never led it guide you. The moment it does, you will fall. Do you understand, Atreus?"

He let out another breath, visible in the cold air. His pupils shrunk and the hunter was gone. In his place was a warrior.

"Yes, father."

A Spartan.

Atreus readied his blades. The wolves had come, and they wanted his flesh.

The Beowolf at the head of the pack reached him first. It leaped at him so it could pin him down and kill him with ease. Atreus side-stepped, letting the creature tumble in the snow. Another Beowolf went for a more simple approach and tried to swipe his head off with its claws. He used the momentum of his previous moment to spin, evading the claw as he bent low and let his blades follow him. The edge tore through flesh and cut open a path. Without stopping the motion, he continued his spin and sliced off its arm before pushing it away with a roundhouse kick to its jaw, knocking on its back.

He stepped away, his blades prepared for another encounter. The Beowolf that attempted the first blow lunged to remove the blades from his hands. Atreus evaded and thrusted one of his blades into its torso.

The third Beowolf had seen that the direct approach was failing and went at killing him with another approach. It grabbed hold of the fallen tree that its dead brother had smashed into and hoisted it up, claws digging into its trunk. It roared and swung at the young hunter with its new implement.

Atreus' eyes widened and moved. He jumped over the swing, foot planted on the tree in mid-swing and pushed himself higher up before he pulled on something attached to his wristband. The Beowolf with one of his swords lodged in its body was suddenly pulled up, following after Atreus.

There was a thin string of light attached to the bottom of the blades' hilts, connecting to the rotors on his wristbands. The rotors spun and licked as they swallowed up the string the more the Beowolf grew closer, then extended again when Atreus threw the helpless Grimm at its comrade.

Wolves collided and thrashed about on each other, grip on the tree forgotten. When he landed back on the ground, he pulled on the string again, calling the blade back to his side and dragging the thrashing wolves with them. Now close, he jammed the blade into one of the other Beowolf's head. It missed the brain, but as a consolation the Grimm's eyes was now butchered. He gripped the handle of the blade still in the second Beowolf's body and yanked it out, flipping it into a reverse grip, then brought it down on the Beowolf's skull, sinking it as far as he could before he pulled it straight down, slicing its entire head in half.

Atreus kicked at its fresh corpse, pushing it away before dealing with the other Grimm, now suddenly enraged. It took him by surprise, headbutting him. The blow caused him to reel back, dazed and left open for the Beowolf to tackle him to the ground. It snapped its jaws at him, trying to bite off a chunk of his throat. He elbowed it and pushed it to the side, grabbing hold of the hilt of his blade, then proceeded to carve it straight down the side of its face, leaving behind quite the nasty scar.

This served to distract it long enough for him to push it off and roll to his feet, deciding to try for another approach. He let go of one of his blades and held the thin chain, proceeding to spin it around. Once it reached maximum speed, he threw it straight at the Albino Grimm and struck it dead in the face, piercing into its brain.

Before it could break down and dissipate, Atreus threw the corpse at the Grimm who's arm had been severed earlier. It fell to the ground when the corpse struck it dead on, once more falling to the snow. He took a look at his surroundings and released a third breath.

"Though your enemies may come few in number, never underestimate them." his father's voice came to him again. "Especially if they are Beowolves. They hunt in a pack. They trust in one another. Each integral to their continued survival. In other lands, the young ones may be bumbling pups, but the ones here in the isles… They are survivors. They will not relent if you slay one of them."

His fingers wrapped around the hilts. The rotors clicked and ceased to function. The glowing string of chains dispersed and vanished. He pushed the hilts together and twisted. A click came from the joined blades as they extended and grew longer, more thin. The glowing chain reappeared, this time joined by the tips of the sharp edges of the newly-formed bow. The hilts also extended, becoming the center of the bow. In the middle, a circular disc formed in between the hilts. His finger touched the disc and pulled it back, pulling back the string until it became taut.

"Aura can only last for so long. You have much of it, but do not make a habit of using it. Huntsmen rely too much on it, just as they do Semblances. Rely on your instincts. Trust in your own abilities. Do not allow your senses to be dulled. Let the power that defends you become a weapon instead."

His eyes developed a glowing hue as his finger pulled the bowstring. A thin white line with a sharpened tip, mimicking an arrow, formed the further he pulled the string back.

Atreus released his breath, and let his arrow fly. It struck the dazed Beowolf and lodged itself into the skull, killing it instantly. Its body fell back into the snow, where it would begin to dissolve.

Without lessening his grip, Atreus looked about his surroundings again. There did not appear to be any Grimm in sight. The air was silent once again, save for the soft chirps of birds, the rushing waterfall close by and the crunching of snow beneath his feet. Everything was still.

Finally, the tension left him. The glow in his eyes faded.

Before he left the forest in favor of collecting the rabbit and returning home, something snapped into existence behind him. A furious howl reached his eyes. The last Beowolf had remained hidden all this time, waiting for the right opportunity to kill him when he least expected it. It finally had its chance when Atreus let down his guard.

The copper-haired boy was caught off-guard. He was about to repel the beast, the sharp edges of his bow making an excellent deterrent, but something else reached the beast. The air grew colder without warning, and a spinning blade of ice shot out of the air and into the Albino Grimm's skull, slicing off a good chunk of its head and killing it in an instant. The spinning icy blade slammed into the tree behind the young hunter.

The Grimm, caught by the blow, was knocked off course and instead landed next to Atreus. Its body then began to break down to join the rest of its pack as wisps of snow-white smoke. Bewildered, the young hunter looked at the blade that saved his life.

It was an ax. A beautifully crafted one at that, with a wooden handle encased in pieces of gold. The pommel was twisted and curved, a mixture of gold and black intertwined together with two holes at either side. At the top, where the blade of the ax rested, a smaller sharp edge rested. The blade of the ax possessed a silver edge, complimenting the golden curve beneath it. Strange markings decorated the flat of the blade's side. At the hilt of the ax sat two icy-blue gemstones.

What was truly shocking about this masterpiece, however, was that the entire blade of the ax was coated in a sheet of ice. Ice that soon broke apart and fell into the snow, as if having served its purpose. The dissolving corpse of the Beowolf at his feet also had ice on its body, small and large pieces of flakes around the massive gash in its head. There was also a small patch of ice growing around the area where the ax had been lodged.

It was as if that, whatever its blade touched, the ax brought with it an unforgiving chill.

Atreus knew of its owners. Its original wielder had passed away, and entrusted to her significant other. He turned to where the ax had come flying. There, emerging from the treeline, clad in few garments that offered no protection against the unforgiving winter, was his father.

A small shudder ran down his spin as he felt his father's eyes bore into him. He could not discern whether it was disappointment, shame or anger in those eyes. Perhaps it was all three at once or a mix of both.

His father stopped a few meters away from him. He continued to look upon him, even as he raised his hand. The ax shook for a moment, then returned to his grasp. Unlike Atreus' blades, which required machinery to return to his side, there were no strings or chains that brought the ax back to his hand.

Atreus would not lie, he had always wondered his such a feat was possible. At first, when he witnessed it, he had thought that it had been his mother's Semblance that brought the ax back to her whenever she had thrown it. But seeing his father do so as well, when he had no Semblance or even aura to help fight, he began to question whether or not it was actually the ax itself being capable of such a feat. If so, how was it possible? There was no technological involvement with the ax whatsoever. A "classic" as a villager once said.

An uncomfortable silence reigned between the two. Eventually, it was broken by the father. "You let your guard down." Atreus winced, but didn't look away. "You reacted, yes. But it would have taken a bite out of your shoulder before your bow could hit it."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry. Be better." his father grunted. He looked about the area and took note of the dissolving Grimm corpses. "How many?"

"Four or five." Atreus replied. "I killed one that strayed. The rest found me afterwards."

"There has been a pack around that same number wandering close to the village." his father said. "They killed three hunters. Including Samson." The copper-haired Faunus grimaced. He had been the one to find Samson's corpse. It had been a grizzling sight. Even now, it still haunted him. A sense of relief swelled when he realized he had avenged the old man. Perhaps now his family could rest in peace. "I imagine the village will be much calmer in the next couple days. Have you finished your hunt?"

"I need to finish skinning the rabbit." Atreus answered. "Other than that, I have two more in my bag."

His father nodded. "Good. Finish your work, then we return."

"Yes, sir."

"Atreus."

"Yes?"

"...you fought well."

Atreus' eyes widened at that. Faintly, beneath that beard, he could see a ghost of a smile making its way to his father's lips. It was hardly noticeable, but it was still there.

He was stunned to silence, but smiled to himself as he turned back to the forgotten rabbit, which by now was no doubt collecting snowfall.

Today had been a good day.

"No beast is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his rage." –Plutarch

This is a little something to tide over the people anxiously waiting for me to update Something Wicked This Way Comes. I must remind people that the chapters are meant to be as long as the chapters that are in the books, if slightly less. And chapters in Overlord tend to go on for a third of the book. Naturally, that means they will be quite long. Both in word count, and in length.

This story has been in my repitore for a while. The only reason I had not chosen to pursue writing it is mainly because I did not know much about the lore of the God of War games, aside from its protagonist being the world's angriest man.

On the subject of Something Wicked, however, I can say that the chapter is coming soon. I simply don't know when it will be finished, but it is coming. Possibly next month if I'm pushing it.

Please be patient.