"Again" Myr tells himself waking up at the bonfire. Dragging his cold and hollowed body away from the caressing warmth of the bonfire. Walking towards the sand covered ruins of the Ringed City, Myr once more sets his eyes on the Dark Soul infested Gael charging at him with his blood soaked broken sword.
"Again" Myr says to himself for another countless time. "How long have I been here? How many times have I died?" He finally asks himself. Time, death and living had all become a lost concept to Myr during his time in the Ringed City. Too many deaths to count. Enough blood spilt to fill oceans. "I will not hollow." Myr keeps saying to himself out of spite. The Slave Knights sword pierces Myr's body once more and Myr wakes at the bonfire.
"Why can't i stay here a little longer?" He asks the voiceless air. "Stop and you hollow." the recesses of his mind reminds him. Diving again to Gaels path, this time managing to make the beast bleed. Seeing his own blood tainted by the Dark Soul of man, the Slave Knight is driven further into a rage. His attacks become more violent and powerful, even causing lightening to strike down.
Myr sighs waking up at the bonfire again after being pinned to the ground by Gaels sword and struck by lightning. "No more.. please..." Myr says curling up by the bonfire slowly feeling the hollow take over and his consciousness fading away.
"Ashen One, what is wrong?" Myr recalls the Firekeepers soothing tone. Even in death the Firekeeper still cared for him. "How many more times must I try and fail?" He asks no one staring into the fire clinging to what's left of his mind. Hoping to hear the Firekeepers voice once more. Slience.
"Again..." Myr says out of habit and spite towards the cursed world. Getting back up, he grabs his nearly broken blade and heavily dented and worn shield. Walking back towards the Slave Knight, he readies himself for the barrage of attacks. Blocking and dodging and striking when possible, the battle lasts over an hour. "Hand it over... that thing... you're Dark Soul.." the Slave Knight says just like the hundreds of other times.
Consuming the bitter, green buds, Myrs exhaustion disappears and he charges forth to greet the hollow in combat. The next collision of blades shatters Myrs. The blade now resembles the Slave Knights. Broken, blood stained but still holding itself together somehow. Lightening begins striking down, Gaels pulls out his repeating crossbow and unleashes a fury of arrows at Myr.
Managing to avoid being hit by the arrows and lightning, Myr leaps towards Gael while he reloads the crossbow. His broken, bloody sword pierces Gaels throat causing him to collapse. "My lady's painting..." the Slave Knight struggles to say as his body finally gives out from the countless fights and injuries he sustained.
Out of breath Myr mutters "No more.." having a difficult time realizing he's finally done. He collects the blood spilling out of Gael in an empty estus flask before claiming the deceased's soul. "I should deliver the Dark Soul to the painting lady." Myr thinks walking back to the bonfire and warping to Ariandal's Chapel. "Maybe she'll let me live there and hollow in peace." He mutters climbing the ladder up to the Painting Lady. "My thanks, Ashen One. I will assuredly finish the painting.
Of a cold, dark, and very gentle place.
One day, it will make someone a goodly home." the Lady says upon receiving the blood of the Dark soul.