The Last Berserker (RWBY x OP Abused Male Reader)

Chapter 1: A Berserker Is Born

Everyone knows the legend of the silver-eyed warrior. The classic chosen one of remnant.

A legend not so well known is the legend of the berserker.

Berserkers are not heroes.

They aren't known for heroic deeds, or mystical prophecies. Their true call to fame is their unmatchable ability to always come out on top. Even if they don't win every battle, they will always win the war.

Throughout history there have been warriors winning in seemingly impossible odds. So, what are they? Demigods? Monsters in hiding?

No, they're berserkers, who keep their identity a secret. The berserker name doesn't carry a positive connotation.

Berserkers have mostly faded into history, all except for one, the best one yet, (F/N).

Many years ago

Your father: You've failed. Again.

Your father, Warden, points his sword to your bruised face, as you lay on the ground, exhausted and in agony from your father's "training".

Warden: Do you even listen to me when I speak to you? You still haven't grown, despite the practice. You aren't worthy of the Lycan clan name.

He lies. You've gotten better over the years of training. Your father is just stronger, and he has more experience.

You can tell just by looking into his eyes. He doesn't see this as "training". He enjoys standing over your broken body.

Warden: You're nothing but a waste. You can't even defend yourself at school. Go inside. I have nothing else to say.

You begin to pick yourself up, struggling against the weight of your failure.

Your father: NOW!

You get up, and limp inside, glaring at your father. Your father glares right back, silent.

He doesn't love you like a father should. But he does respect your fighting spirit, and your audacity. He just wants to make you into his warrior legacy.

As you step inside, your mother gives you a cold stare.

Your Mother: Prepare dinner, and clean the house. We will be having guests tomorrow, I don't want to see you while they're here.

20 minutes later

After making dinner for your family, you just sit down and eat, not saying a word.

Your mother has prepared some steak, baked potatoes, and asparagus to satiate your hunger.

As you chow down, you taste no love or care put into the food. Your mother doesn't love you, and only cares for you because you're her husband's legacy. You almost never talk to her.

But that's probably for the better. She seems like a nasty woman.

You finish your food and go upstairs.

You open the door to your room. It's as underwhelming as usual. Just a bed, a dresser, a desk, and a closet.

Despite your parents being wealthy, you don't get to enjoy it at all. Your cared for, but not cared about.

You sigh, and lay down. This is probably the worst birthday ever.

You're exhausted and beat up. The only thing you can think about is sleep.

You fall asleep quickly, despite the pain you're in.

You wake up in a field of wheat. The warmth of the sun embraces you lovingly.