A/N: I am not dead! Not yet at least x3. Anyway, here is a dark thought – related fic AND bringer of sprites fic as well.
Dedication: to my friend and our fellow author, Sir Cloud, for being the motivator for this one shot : )
. . .
"Please! N-"were the last words of the Dark Wraith as Balzac charred the man's already dying body with a blazing chaos fire ball. He was quite disappointed; to get invaded in the ruins New Londo by a novice in swordplay… did the DarkStalker's covenant run out of able Dark wraiths? Perhaps Kaathe was so desperate that he would enlist anyone?
Balzac touched the stain of the invader on the damp floor. The blood morphed into the humanity of the dark wraith, it tried to float away but the chaos servant snatched it right away lest it would wander towards the accursed ghosts of the damned city. He opened his bottomless box to check on the fair lady's humanities "Only five?" he frowned in disappointment.
The Wanderer leaned on the wall and recalled how he was at the mercy of Quelaag and how he was enlisted in the covenant of the chaos servants. Finally, he had a goal in his life. A noble one nonetheless, he felt… he felt he was belonging to something or someone after all of his years as a wanderer. A wave of euphoria swept over his mind and soul.
His joy morphed into alertness when he spotted an incoming ghost. His pyromancy was at hand as well as his trusty scimitar. Yet, the ghost whispered "h..e…lp….m…e." Balzac had his share of daggered ghosts… the pleading ghost was not amongst them. His caution started to waver slightly "Who are you?"
"fol…low…me." said the ghost before floating away. In that situation, Balzac could have abandoned the friendly ghost or could have killed it for souls and yet something urged the man to follow the ghost. The duo went away from the city of ghosts to the peaceful remnants of the firelink shrine. "h…er…e" the shade pointed at a bottomless well with a corpse dangling on its edge.
Doubt started to possess Balzac; unlike the 'chosen undead', he had but one life to waste. Wasting it by plunging into a lightless well wasn't exactly a bright idea. "What dwells there?"
"my…bod..y." the sprite went downwards to the well leaving Balzac in such conflict. "I can't believe I am doing this." He took a deep breath and jumped into the darkness. He continued to fall and fall till the outline of new Londo was clear to his eyes. "N-"his last scream was teleported with him to an entire different world as a fissure of another time opened just before impact.
. . .
A throbbing pain plagued the chaos servant's body when he slammed hard into the black marbled floor. Quickly, he regained his posture only to spot two figures in the shadows:
A man, that was certain, a pale one with small black pores all over his body oozing thick black paste. His long hair was black and filthy from the oozy substance. His face was partially devoid of flesh and skin, the healthy portion is pale and skinny. His eyes had a faint purple glow. He wore a tattered black robe, almost cult-like. The robe's hood had worn off leaving small remnants. A small black pendant rested loosely on his neck. A dark, corroded katana dripped more of the unknown substance in his left hand.
A woman with a smaller and shorter frame than the man, She was quite beautiful in all things considered with her short and silky hair covering half of her face and one of her two emerald eyes. He wore a mage's cloak not from Vinhiem though but still a mage's nonetheless. Other than her beauty, she possessed a wicked catalyst in her right hand.
"sooo, your spirit persisted oblivion? And you summoned this fool as well?! My, have I underestimated you! Your life, drifter from another word, will end with my blade!" The woman tried to stop him but it was too late as the dull blade sunk deeply in Balzac's left shoulder almost cleaving it. Balzac growled in utter pain and countered with a strike of his own in the man right side. It wasn't fatal but it could be after a couple of blows. The assaulter backed away in pain, the woman next to him started to put sense into his mind.
Meanwhile, the oozy matter started to devour the wanderer's flesh widening the wound in the process. Balzac stared at his useless limb and decided to finish the job by cutting it in one strike. Good thing he was a right handed person. "You there… you cost me an arm… an arm which served my mistress faithfully. Prepare to die!" to compensate the loss of his other arm, Balzac used his pyromancer flame with his curved sword at the same time. He lunged towards the man and slashed his midsection by his now-blazing scimitar. The second strike was met by the man's katana " I have lost her for so much… none shall break our bond!"
His words distracted him from the abyssal matter from behind. it ate through his armor and flesh like fire on ice "Please! Let us be! Thine intentions are misguided! We longed to touch, to kiss, and to feel each other. I bequeath thee, returneth to thy realm and begone!"
Balzac rolled over to avoid the second wave of dark magic. He could feel and hear his back literally melting away in agony. He was lucky to have some Estus left in his green flask. It wasn't much but it sure did soothe the pain and close some minor wounds. Now the battle began at earnest…
His primary concern was the nimble man, he couldn't pinpoint him in a certain spot as the woman supported him with more dark magic. He couldn't even reach her because of him. So it was a bit of dilemma. However, his experience of wandering and in the covenant of the chaos' daughter taught him a trick or two…
The dance of swords ended when Balzac's curved sword melted from the chaos flame leaving its wielder armless. While dodging the incoming blows, Balzac tripped over some rubble and fell hard on the floor "the end is nig-" Balzac claimed the golden chance of incaution and crossed his legs over the man's leg for him to be on the same level with him. Then, the man embraced the power of chaos as Balzac punched his chest with a chaos-empowered fist crushing his ribcage along with his lungs and heart. The chaos servant stood up triumphant upon his foe.
"Nooo! My beloved Kilme!" The woman rushed to the dying man. Kilme gathered his last glimpse of life in one last sentence " I-I am sorry… my Malisse ."
The woman known as Malisse cried over her lover's lifeless corpse for a minute or two. Balzac gave her some time to grief on Kilme while he consumed a humanity to close his wounds. Then, she gave him the most darkened gaze he had ever seen. Her soothing calm voice became a rather dark, sadistic one "Thou hast the chance to flee. Now… now thou hast enticed the abyss inside me…"
The clenched her catalyst which in return engulfed her body in layers upon layer of the abyss. Her eyes flickered a couple of times registering the new dark powers inside her shell before turning in to black. She unleashed a soul-scattering screech before sending random pulses of the abyss all over the place. Balzac took cover behind sturdy rubble but even that was destroyed in the second wave however it gave him the required time to cast his pride work…
Balzac body was engulfed in chaos flames from head to toe. He marched slowly against wave after wave of the abyss. Such dark magic was vaporized upon contact with his chaos-covered skin. It was actually a modified power within blessed by Quelaag herself who saw so much potential in her loyal servant. She named it 'the chaos within'.
When he at range with Malisse, Balzac put his hands into the layers of the abyss to finish her off. However, the abyss was far too great for the chaos flame to overcome. Combine that with the soul-leeching ability of the pyromancy and the result would be rather deadly than useful.
"I-I am sorry." Balzac did the unthinkable and dared to jump into the abyss around her. In this fracture of a second, his hand was on her petit neck. It all ended with a simple crack. The entire abyss was gone when Malisse died leaving Balzac to his certain doom. Most of his body was corroded, some of his internal organs were clear to his eye. He half smiled and slumbered into another type of darkness.
. . .
The Chaos servant slowly opened his eyes expecting what lied beyond life. He was instead greeted by the same woman whom he killed in a small stone room with a bonfire in the middle "What the-"
"Shh, it is alright…don't stress yourself. Your body is too fragile now." She hushed him "I owe you my life for saving me. For that I am most gracious." In the next hour, she explained to him how she was tricked by Kilme so he had revived his beloved which had the same body in another time. As the chosen undead, she was reborn once more. His wounds was healed by the powers of the abyss even his arm; it was reattached one again but it was paler than usual and the wound area oozed slightly.
"I must go. My mistress needs me… where is that fissure of yours?"
"I…I don't know…"
. . .
The end?