Hey guys and gals and all variations thereof, starting up a new story. At the time of writing, this is actually the first piece iv'e done with a character pov, save the dying test subject in After Escape, and this time the pov character is actually thinking to himself, and will be speaking to others as well. So unless i come up with a better system, from this point on all of my stories will use the following format. "TEST"- speaking, 'TEST'- thinking, TEST - actions. Also the disclaimer, I do not own either Zero no Tsukaima or Dark Souls. As is usual, please review :3
Torvald was put simply, bored. It had been a few millennia since he discovered he couldn't actually hollow for whatever reason, and stopped doing so once he reached the walking corpse state. Not quite a fleshy pink hollow, and far from one of the dried up mummy-esque undead soldiers, he was more of a freshly decayed body, still moist and covered in mostly intact skin. Seeing as he couldn't go past this point, it was also his usual appearance.
He had been bored for quite awhile. In the beginning he had things to do, ring the bells of awakening, beat Sen's fortress, open the kiln of the first flame. And while those had filled time, he knew they were just that. Things to kill time. Having read the books in the grand library of Seath's palace after big hat Logan turned hollow, he knew a good deal. And not just from the books that had turned Logan. He took his knowledge from all of them. All of the forbidden books, the unholy scrolls, the… well you get the point. He knew that the sunlight in Anor Londo was an illusion. That Gwyndolin kept up an illusion of his sister, Gwynevere, who had left the city with her husband, Flan. He also knew that both Frampt and Kathe wanted to use him as their pawn. Burning himself forever or sitting at the throne of a doomed world did not appeal to him. He also knew that with time in Lordran distorted the way it was, there was no end for the world should he just sit down and do nothing. Time simply did not exist in this land, and as a result an undead could actually change "when" he was by thinking of a certain point in time and dying. None of the other undead seemed to have figured this out however, and because of that he was able to watch them over and over as they screwed up. Link the flame and burn yourself, kill Gwyn, leaving the flame fuel deprived, and you merely reinstated time for yourself and the version of the world you were in at that moment. Since there was no point in either choice, Torvald decided to do what he wanted instead. Namely explore.
Slightly hard to do when the nearest bonfire is fifty miles away… and a few thousand feet above you. They did say the abyss was endless. And with it came endless monsters. The first thing he tried was to get to the strongest point he could reach without absorbing a fully powered lord soul and literally becoming an undead god. At which point he was stupidly powerful, and annoyed when he wanted to trek back to "civilization". So he experimented for a couple- hundred years and figured out how to create bonfires. He was overjoyed at this, remembering the despair he felt at the severe lack of bonfires back when he was still on the pointless journey to save the world. He had learned what was arguably the most powerful art for any undead.
And so he promptly covered Lordran in bonfires. Except for the main part of Anor Londo. These were his fires, and he'd be damned if he let any other undead use them.
Eventually he found Oolacile. Both of them. The one that was newly corrupted and the one that was deep in the abyss and still just as dangerous as it had been back then. Just a lot less pretty. Being an incredibly powerful undead, he cleared them both of enemies, loot, and "Quests" or whatever could be called that. Beating Artorias and Kalameet, and finding every one of those damn crystal lizrds, weren't really quest like.
He spent another century mining ore, and forging weapons. He needed a hobby or two, and it was always good fun to show up at newly arrived undead's firelink shrines with a sword as big as a tree, and claim that it was butter knife. The looks he got gave him plenty a laugh.
Crazy strength does come in handy.
Even with all this exploring to do, and crafting to perform, it was only a matter of time until physical activities were no longer exciting. At that point he switched from adventures to intellectual pursuits. He mastered pyromancy, and sorcery. Figured out that while his faith sucked, he could still increase it by sacrificing souls. And so he developed unique spells.
That eventually became tiring as well.
So we come upon our undead hero, while he is in the process of doing what he usually does at this point. Absolutely nothing.
'Kill me. Please. At least it would let me pass a few more moments. I've been laying here on the forest floor for who knows how long. There's nothing left that's interesting to do... at this point I would welcome suddenly being stabbed through, it would be more entertaining than sitting here waiting for anything. Oh well. At least I'm not insane. Then it'd really suck.'
More time passes and I see a glowing light from by my legs. Lifting my head up I notice a large green portal. I assume it's a portal. If it's not then someone has decided to stick a green glowing window pane in front of me for no apparent reason… that might actually be a good idea. Stick random, okay never mind, bad idea.
Getting up, I stare at the portal for a few seconds.
"On the one hand, I have absolutely no clue where this goes and could probably end up somewhere rather nasty if I touch it. On the other hand, at least I won't be bored…"
I reach out without hesitation and jump into the portal, just as I finally make out the sound of a girl's voice reaching me. The language sounds like a corrupted form of the language old Astoran nobles used to speak.
I'm unable to make out what she's saying before an explosion hits me and I take up a combat stance, both hands on my spear and posture low.
