Invading, a highly controversial topic with many different outlooks from different people. All and all, there are mostly two different groups. One which thinks that invaders are scheming pieces of shit and deserve to be destroyed immediately by any and all means necessary, while the another group is a bunch of people who invade to stay sane, help them, or just to have one hell of a fun night. In my opinion, most retards that are against invading just haven't grown the balls to pillage other's worlds. Along with that, the host pisses themselves when someone actually invades them, hiding behind their army of phantoms like the cowards!
Summoned phantoms and host of embers don't take invading very lightly, and it's fucking stupid! I mean, from an outsider's point of view, invading another world and slaughtering the host's phantoms and throttling the host to death makes the invader seem slightly….psychotic, I get it I get it, but they got the whole thing wrong!
Invaders just want to survive in this god-forsaken world as much as everyone else! Like, I didn't ask to be thrown back into this world and even if I had asked to have another chance at life, and even if I did I would have probably forgotten it by now. But I don't want to be in this Hell that my old world has changed into, not after waking up in that infernal cemetery.
Someone once asked me, "after waking up in your own grave, with the dark sign imprinted upon your skin, and traversing the horrors Lothric had to offer, have you lost more or gained more within your travels?" I simply replied that I didn't have anything, to begin with, beside and an empty memory and the clothes on my back so...yes I have gained more, despite fucking up repeatedly.
It's hard to think that I was probably a totally different person, to begin with, that is before I rose in the untended graves, and is quite depressing when you stop and think about it. Being depressed and crestfallen in Lotheric gets makes you into a hollow, and after a long time of thinking, I found my solution to help combat the hollowing that was consuming my soul. Invading.
Invading kicks my wreck of a body into full gear, setting me up for the hunt. The absolute adrenaline and excitement makes me nearly burst every time I see the words: "Invading Another World" forming on my precious little red eye orb. It keeps me alive by keeping my life fresh, for every invasion is different.
Invading, of course, is an unfair game with excruciating pain and humiliation waiting for the loser. But that makes winning all the greater when you triumph over the host and his militia of phantoms. Of course, you fail and you sometimes get that edgy gesture from the hosts and his phantoms after you die, but the excitement and experience you gain are well worth it.
Despite being an "immoral bastard" as some say, I still have morals that I sometimes follow while invading. One being that I don't really like killing people that won't or can't respawn back at the bonfires, it leaves a bad taste, that doesn't make me stop killing people at most times, but it still lingers in my mind. Another rule is to stray away from harming other dark phantoms, for we all have the same goal in mind, because why waste a good use in jolly slaughterous cooperation?
That is basically it, all the other morals that a human being should have are pretty much thrown out the window because the second you become a host of embers, you are fair game.
Of course, I also love invading because the majority of friends I have met me through invading and being invaded, along with how you can see so many things while invading due to how time is convoluted in Lothric. This leaves endless possibilities in my wake, and I intend to exploit them all before I go hollow.
In the streets of Irithyll, the snowy roads and sidewalks were littered with corpses of pontiff knights and long-lost hollows by the recent fighting that has taken place. In the middle of the streets, two figures sat with another standing over them. One figure standing leaned on a flamberge speaking to the other two figures, seemingly very engrossed in his speech. He was dressed in a full set of drakeblood knight armor while also shrouded in the blood-colored glow of an invader. The figures on the ground consisted of a terrified man dressed as a herald of the way of white, and a man in Mirrah chainmail sitting with his legs crossed in an almost child-like manner. The Mirrah knight also had a red glow of a phantom and seemed very engrossed in listening to what the other red phantom was saying, and looked strangely innocent if it weren't for the war axe laying by his side.
"And that's the story why I invade." proclaimed the red phantom, he threw his hands in the air with great emphasis, as if he were the very star of a play.
"That still d-doesn't answer my question!" proclaimed the herald.
"Then what was the question?" replied the irritated Drakeblood knight, his grip tightening on his flamberge.
The Herald let out a large gulp and attempted to speak to the hostile phantom.
"W-why did you invade me?" The herald spoke up, seeming to gain back some confidence. "Out of all the people in the world you invaded me."
The knight growled in frustration. He tells this Way of White trash his life story and just throws it out of the window, and for what? A fucking stupid question that doesnt take a genious to awnser.
"I'm going to make this very simple for your small ignorant cleric brain." spoke the knight "I used my red eye orb, I waited for my red eye orb to find a world, and then…...guess what!" yelled the knight.
"You invaded my wor-"
"I invaded your world!" screamed the knight, fist clenched around his flamberge, which was now shaking violently. It took a few seconds for the knight to recompose himself and catch his breath. "Any more questions?" asked the knight.
The Mirrah knight raised his hand
"Yes Creighton?" asked the knight.
"Can I tell you my story on how I became an invader?" asked Creighton
"Sure I've got plenty of time, Creighton let's hear-" said the knight
"H-hey, can guys can you at least spare me from those god-awful stories you keep telling me?" interrupted the herald
"I'd be glad to." said the knight with venom within his voice.
Within seconds the flamberge in the Drakeblood knight's hand was ripped out of the ground and found its new home in the unlucky cleric's chest. The herald spluttered blood from his lips in one last-ditch effort to speak. But that action was in vain, and his body soon flopped over, dead.
Creighton seemed unfazed with this action as if it was a common occurrence.
"Good kill Spacks, next time save him for me." complimented Creighton, raising from his seat.
The knight known as Spacks turned around to face Creighton and gave him a firm handshake.
"If it was not for you, his phantoms would have gutted me on the spot." said Spacks "You can tell me your story over a barrel of Seigbrau in the Cathedral."
"Sounds good to me, happy hunting," said Creighton before ripping out the Herald's tongue with a small dagger and crystalling out.
Spacks ripped his flamberge out of the herald's corpse and pulled out his black separation crystal and crouched on the ground. He closed his eyes and before he knew it, he was back at the Irithyll of The Boreal Valley bonfire overlooking the deserted city.
"Another day in Lothric." mumbled Spacks.
So this is my first story I've written on Fanfiction and I'm happy to bring this story out to you guys. It honestly took me awhile to get the balls to write this story and I thank you for getting this far. As always, I would love feedback and ideas on this story for it helps tremendously. Thanks for reading!