So, here it is! My second fan fiction. I wasn't sure where to place this one really so I kind of just put it in the Dark Souls category. *shrugs* Anyways. The lore in this series is so amazing to me! Most people would look at it and see plot holes, all these missing things. They would call the story incomplete. But that's the beauty of it! With so many questions, comes an opportunity for many different interpretations. All of them different in some way. Including my own. My interpretation will be my own ideas as well as many other people's ideas about the lore. All of them combined to hopefully form a coherent story.
I tell you all this because throughout this story I will be attempting to fill certain parts of the story with my own interpretation of the lore, so I warn you now. As always constructive criticism is welcome, encouraged even. I can't grow as a writer without knowing what I've done wrong. Just like with Naruto: Konoha's Vampire, I will be needing beta readers for this story so PM me if you're interested.
Alright, enough rambling. Let's get this show in the road!
Disclaimer: I do not own Demon's Souls, Dark Souls, or Dark Souls 2. Nor do I own anything I may make reference too. All I own are any of my own original characters.
Legend:
"Talking"
"Powerful being/Demon talking"
'Thinking'
'Powerful being/Demon thinking'
Flashback
Chapter one: a rough beginning
In the age of the ancients the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then there was fire and with fire came disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course, light and dark. Then from the dark, they came, and found the Souls of the Lords within the flame. Nito, the First of the Dead, The Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos, Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights. And the Furitive Pygmy, so easily forgotten.
With the strength of Lords, they challenged the Dragons. Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The Witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the Dragons were no more.
Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights. And amongst the living are seen, carrier of the accursed Darksign.
Yes, indeed. The Darksign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the north, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world. This is the fate of all undead. At least most undead anyways. Some undead, such as our hero, fate would lead them down a different path.
For in ancient legend it is stated, that one day an undead shall be chosen to leave the undead asylum, in pilgrimage, to the land of the ancient lords, Lordran.
Time was a funny thing. At least it was in the eyes of our hero. Despite popular belief, time didn't flow like a river. It didn't just move in one direction. It would go forward and backward, but he would look the same. Physically, anyways, his mind was another story.
The hero in question stared at the only luxury he had in the cramped cell. A mirror. Cracked as it was, he could still find a use for it. Staring in to the mirror was something he did every day. Because it was really all he had to do. It was either stare at himself or at the wall. Narcissist he was not, but he found himself enjoying his own visage more than the mold on the wall.
His eyes subconsciously wandered his own features. Golden blond hair, usually bright, now almost brown from lack of bathing. Green eyes, dark and tired looking, and brimming with boredom. Looking into his eyes showed his true age. His skin lacked wrinkles or other signs of age, making him look to be around twenty years old. He had estimated himself to actually be around fifty years old. But as an undead there was no middle ground. You were either a zombie with green rotting flesh, or a twenty something in your prime.
Our hero was the latter. He was known as a hero in many circles….at least he had been, in a time that he assumed, was long passed. He would never refer to himself as such, as arrogant as he was. He had too many regrets to do say. He didn't have a name. Not anymore. He had forgotten it long ago.
He adjusted his clothing. Simple rags. Barely enough to cover his body but it was what he had woke up in. To this day he had no idea how he had truly got here. He remembered what had happened with impressive clarity, especially for an undead. Memory waned overtime for that of the undead. But his had always been crystal clear. So it wasn't that he didn't remember what had happened it was that he had no way of explaining it.
He realized she was walking past him, and past the body of the now deceased, former King Allant. His eyes wouldn't move though. He stared at the true form of King Allant, and found pity for the man. Despite everything the man had put him through, this man had been a king. A great one at that, but now? Now he was nothing more than a husk of his former self. It hadn't been the final fight he expected. It hadn't been a fight at all. It had been a slaughter. It just felt like putting down an old sick dog. He registered that the maiden was saying something, her back still to him.
"Thine work is done. Slayer of Demons, go back above. The Nexus shall imprison thee no longer." They were the words he had been waiting for. Yet they didn't bring the sense of relief that he thought they would. How would he go back to his normal life? Something had changed in him. Throughout the long journey, he had been broken many times. Not in a physical sense, though he had died over and over again. But in his mind he knew he would never be the same. Never be the man he once was. Before this ordeal.
As she began to prepare to do what she knew must be done, his thoughts wandered to her. The woman that throughout his journey he had grown fond of. The Maiden in Black. The one who tended to the many demon slayers that journeyed into the fog that had enveloped Boletaria. Despite the wax that covered her eyes, she was quite beautiful. Perhaps simply saying he had grown fond of her was an understatement. After he had lost Yuria...he shook his head. He focused on the maiden, lest he be lost in thought. What would happen to the maiden? What would happen to the woman he had grown to care so deeply for?
"What will happen to you...?" He asked.
"I will lull the Old One to slumber. The Old One and I shall slumber interminably. That is the way it must be. Thou may'st go. Be gone to thine world." He stood there, racking his mind for some alternative, some way to make it so she didn't have to stay here with the demon.
"Is that really the only way?" The maiden tilted her head at the question, her brown hair swaying slightly, barely falling past her shoulders.
"This is the way it must be." She responded resolutely. The demon slayer smiled sadly and turned to leave. As he left the Old One he heard her voice. "Thank you hero, my slayer of demons. Thank you for I may finally rest."
A tear slipped down his cheek. 'And here I thought that I could no longer cry.' He dully mused. As the old one began to glow, he felt it. The feeling of accomplishment. A feeling of bitter victory. He had against all odds saved Boletaria. Saved the world from the endless fog. He had saved humanity, at the cost of his own.
"You're journey is not yet over."
The voice was dark, and he could feel the power behind it. Whirling around he just caught a glimpse of a man who was wearing what seemed to be a porcelain mask depicting a child's face before everything went black.
He awoke in the asylum afterward. Any attempt to escape had failed spectacularly. He had lost his souls. The power he had killed for. Undead, dragons, archdemons. The power he had gained from slaying them was just gone. He shook thoughts of his past away, it was time to start his daily routine.
"So...how are you today?" He would ask the one in the mirror.
"Eh, normal, not good, not bad, just...normal. How about you?" It would respond in kind.
"Oh you know, same old same old. Stuck in a cell in an asylum full of undead. You know, business as usual."
"You know how you're batshit crazy right?" His eye would twitch at this point of the conversation.
"No, just bored." The conversation would end there. Everyday.
What the hero didn't know though was that today would be different. Glancing up the hero gazed upon a peculiar sight. The window at the top of his cell usually showed the sky, but his view of the clouds was being blocked by that of a knight. The knight peered down into the cell for a few moments before disappearing. So surprised by the appearance of another being, the trapped hero didn't even call after him, he simply stared dumbly at the spot that the knight had occupied. He was forced to sidestep a body that fell from the skylight, a loud clang ringing throughout the cell. It was a suit of armor, and judging from the smell, someone was in it.
He gazed down at the body for a few moments before reaching down to search it, only for a grin to form as he found a key. He quickly placed the key in the door to his cell twisting it and hearing a click.
'Ah, music to my ears.' He thought, grin still on his face. He faintly wondered why he was being set free now or who it was that set him free. Obviously it had been the knight, but who was this mysterious knight? Why had he set him free? What was the catch?
As he stared down the hall that led to his freedom, he realized that it didn't really matter. He began making his way through the hall at a leisurely pace. He had to repress the urge to whistle a jaunty tune. He didn't want to attract the attention of anything that wandered the halls after all. He just felt so happy, so joyful! He hadn't seen anything but that cell for years, so this was a welcome change of pace. A groan coming from his left made him pause mid step. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed the hollow leaning on the wall to his left.
After encountering many of the creatures, that was the name he had given them. They were undead like him, but they were little more than zombies, having lost their will to fight and eventually their minds. Now they wandered the world, searching for souls to consume. For what reason, he did not know.
His attention was brought back to the hollow as it groaned again, as if protesting his ignoring of it. It was dressed in rags just like his. Obviously a resident of the asylum like him. He noticed that it was staring at him, he wondered how that was possible considering that the undead thing had no eyes. He shrugged and noticed the broken sword in the thing's hand. It would come in handy if he encountered anything larger than the basic undead.
The blonde champion weighed his options but didn't have to think long as the thing suddenly lunged at him. It swung its weapon at him but the swing was sluggish and clumsy. He easily side stepped the attack before grabbing the thing's head and slamming it into the wall. With a sickening crunch the undead fell to the ground, broken sword clattering to the ground.
He smirked, bending down and grabbing the broken sword. Giving it a few test swings he nodded to himself, it would do. At least until he could find himself a real weapon. He continued down the hall. Quickly taking out any undead that got in his way. Four undead and one ladder later and he found himself in a court yard. A small fire in the middle, a sword sticking out of the middle of the flames. Something about the fire was different.
As he drew near to the fire he felt its warmth. He kneeled down next to it, noticing something off right away. The flames glowed and moved sluggishly, they didn't spark and flicker like a normal fire. He slowly reached forward and let his hand move in to the flames. He shut his eyes tightly expecting to feel his hand being burned, but when he only felt a welcoming warmth as the flames licked at his fingers. His brow furrowed as he stared at the fire, his eyes settling on the sword sticking out of the ground. It looked familiar for a reason that he couldn't identify. Where had he seen it?
He stood back to his feet with a sigh and looked ahead of him, noticing a large door. It looked promising….and suspicious. With nowhere else to go the blond hero went to the door and with great effort pushed it open, the creaking of the doors echoing throughout the asylum. He walked through the room and scanned his new surroundings. He appeared to be a courtyard of some sort. A large rectangular room, the floor made of cracked stone tiles. He noticed a distinct lack of hollows, though he eyed the large clay jars in the room suspiciously.
There was another large door directly across from the one he had entered. His grip on his current weapon tightened slightly as he began walking towards the door. His progress was halted as something large crashed to the ground in front of him. A cloud of dust was kicked up that obscured his vision. He heard loud breathing, and took a small step back trying to prepare himself for whatever it was he would face. When the dust cleared the first thing he noticed was how large the thing was! It was at least four times his size. It bared its sharp teeth at him and red glowing eyes glared at him from behind a mask made of bone, large horns extending from it. Large wings extended from the thing's back, also made of bone. The things spine extended from its large hind quarters, forming a bone tail that waved back and forth. Its stomach was distended, and was grotesquely large, nearly reaching its clawed feet. In it's hands was a large club. One that was larger than him, he assumed.
The thing began to lift its club and he should have moved. He should have realized that he should have been anywhere but where he was. But he just stared at the thing. But he didn't see it.He saw something similar. Déjà vu crashed down on him like the weight of the world on his shoulders, a feeling he was all too familiar with.
"******, what is that?!"
The creature stared down at them with three glowing yellow eyes. The rest of its face was hidden by a large skull helmet. It's large mouth being the only other thing visible, sharp teeth forming in to a grin. It was much larger than them. It's rubbery skin stretching across it's grotesque body. The things gut hung over its waist. He didn't observe much more than that as his eyes were drawn to the large axe it held.
"****** move!" He didn't listen to his friend though, even as the creature lifted the axe over it's head. The monster's grin widened as it brought the axe down, intending to split him down the middle. He finally chose that moment to speak.
"Holy….."
"…fuck." Was all he managed to get out before the club crushed him and everything went black.
So there it is, the first chapter of A Nameless' Journey. If you have a better name, let me know. Don't worry about my Naruto story. I have a chapter in the works as we speak. Until next time, Ja ne!