Darker than Truth, Stronger than Night, Blood is Thicker than Black

Prologue:

He was dying. There was no denying that. He had failed to wake up. But that was by his own weakness. It was he how had refused to stop living in this nightmare. He just couldn't contemplate the idea of dying. It felt so real, so true. To let Gehrman kill him would be against the testament of what he had been doing. Refusing to die and choosing to die in the end.

So Gehrman die. He killed him. Then that Blasted Moon Presence had appeared. That creature was neither man nor beast. It had acted cunningly for a beast, yet its onslaught, temptation and aggression was not that of a man.

It did to matter.

The Moon Presence had attacked him.

For that it died.

Fighting such a creature was a laborious task; however it was something which needed to be done for the very essence of survival. He did not want to die. He simply refused to die. It didn't matter if he dug the grave of a hundred men or a god. He would refuse to die. The Moon Presence seemed to have other ambitions. Believing that its own demise was inevitable, the creature had grabbed him and pulled it into himself. The void that would have been its abdomen was where he had been dragged to and cast into the darkness.

He was something that was taken with it to the unknown; something that was meant to die with it. Because it refused to be killed by a mortal.

Whatever the reason the Moon Presence had refused to let him win.

The Gods and Great Ones were truly as inconvenient and human as all mortals. They were as fallible and as human as he was so. Chastising mortals for flaws and weaknesses, while demonstrating the very same. When their lives were on the line they too fought in ways mortals died.

And like man and beast, they died like mortals; on their knees and terrified. This was Yharnam. The gods will not save you now. In the blackness of the void though, he remembered the last words before he left this world to the next.

Oh, Good Hunter