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

Chapter 1: Corypheus and Justina V

For what it was worth Cyrus Assad Strife, knew he was not dead. The question was if he was truly alive. He had found himself in lying on a cold-stone floor in an unknown room. For the Hunter, the unknown was what was truly horrifying. Understand the abyss and you no longer fear it.

Ignorance and arrogance were the most important flaws of people to him. It was why he had help Djura. Did he truly understand the beasts? Did they deserve to die? Assad did not know the answer to that. At the time he hadn't cared. Djura could have been dealt with at a later date. However if it had prevented immediate trouble and danger, he would not ignore it. Thus he had listened to Djura and simply left the man is.

He did not understand the situation as much as he would have liked to. As a result, he could not properly judge. It certainly did not mean that he would hunt down Beasts on a quest to find the cure to his ailment. The idea was pragmatism.

It doesn't matter if the Hound is old or young, so long as it caught foxes.

Assad had seen what morality and honor could do to people.

Looking around he noticed his weapons still with him. That was a small mercy. Apparently the Moon Presence had left him his weapons when it had dragged him into the void. That would have to do. He would need every single tool at his disposal to survive whatever traps that creature had in mind for him.

Oh Good, Hunter

The question remained though. What was the meaning of the doll's words? Cyrus had been certain that those were the words that were spoken by the doll. His memory never failed him. The Imperial Service Exam was one of these prominent moments. The exam was brutal. Prior to his appearance in Yharnam it had been the most difficult experience in his entire life. For four days and three nights, boys such as himself were locked up in a small room and forced to answer thirty tests, each ten pages long.

At least it was for the boys who wished for a better life. Several poor boys couldn't make the trip to one of the core cities and missed out on the one chance to rise to the middle-class. The middle-class system was based around the idea that you wanted skilled workers who can provide you with services that would otherwise require time and energy to complete. Unfortunately, picking the appropriate people who could provide such services was incredibly difficult. Many people were frauds, others provide inaccurate service at the cost of the state, and other times you had important Noble-men who simply recommended their sons despite how incompetent they were. Corruption was rife.

Well it used to be. Cyrus personally thought it was much better now. After all, it was technically fair on paper. In fact the exam was so effective that it had survived four regime changes.

Strife picked up Ludwig's rifle, making sure that everything was still working. Guns were much harder and difficult to maintain, and were prone to jamming. However their advantages certainly outweighed their disadvantages. Targeting men and beast from a-far made it easier to kill them. It was an equalizer in Cyrus's opinion. They kept things afar, allowing Cyrus to pick off foes easily and with trained marksmanship.

Initially it had been very difficult for Assad to work with guns. He was a seventeen year old Surveyor, not a Gunsmith, but necessity was the mother of all inventions.

Every candidate who wished to remain or join the middle class, which made up a little less than five percent of society, had to do the Imperial Service exam. Any literate male who could prove that he was only fourteen, could take the test. It was the one test that decided the rest of your life. First-born sons of Nobles did not sit the exam because it was not necessary. For noble born boys, it was not a necessity, but it was desirable.

The reason why the Imperial Exam was desirable was because it proved that the Nobles had "earned" their place in society. To Assad that was a lie. Noble second and third sons had the distinct advantage of having eight or more years of personal tutoring from retired Imperial Civil Servants. For hours a day, they had people who tutored them, fed them proper food and spared no expense of practicalities. In education money could buy.

That didn't however prepare them for how depriving the exam could be sometimes. Locked in a dark room was nightmarish. The guards would initially stripe you down naked and force you to march. That's if you could prove you were fourteen and who you were. If you didn't have the proper passes most boys would get a beating. At best you were forced to leave in shame.

The guards would walk you down the hallway each assigning you to a cramped room. The only thing you were allowed to bring was your bedpans, water and food which you would have to prepare yourself. The rooms were cramped and windowless. No boy would feel the sun on their skin or the moon on their eyes for the next few days.

Your only companions were the candles and the pen you were given to complete the exams that would change your life.

In every room each boy was given a small ragged mat to lie down in bed each night after they had done all they could after each day. Each room also had a uniform for each boy to wear for their time of examination. The guards would patrol the hallways, making sure that you did not walk out of the hallway.

Doing so would be considered cheating and, as a result, an automatic failure. The guards would sometimes also barge into your rooms to look for anything you had tried to hide. It was why nobody tried to smuggle anything in. If they found anything you were automatically failed. No question asked. If you somehow spoke to the person in the room next to yours you automatically failed. If you spoke to loudly, you automatically failed. There was only meant to be silence in your room as you worked efficiently. You were an Imperial servant, a man of the middle class. That was how you were supposed to act.

In solitude: silence. In labor: efficiency. In Success: acceptance.

Locked, alone and with very little to relive yourself of the tension some boys committed suicide. They were considered expendable, people who were not fit for the pressures of middle-class life. Some noble boys attempted to bribe the guards for answers but like us, their pockets were also checked and any caught would be hanged. They too were prisoners of the system.

The stench of human waste in the humid cell was horrible. It made it difficult to concentrate. It made you nervous. The candle was all that showed the passage of time. We were like convicts, facing execution. The trial of our lives.

At least he had his Saw Cleaver with him. Albeit he did not have all his weapons. It seemed like Strife would have to make everything from scratch or find whatever weapons he could in this new world. Just like before. He was almost certain that whatever the Moon Presence had made sure to leave his disease with him. That or he would be cursed to a slow agonizing fate.

Or would fate have been so kind.

The sound of struggle and screams of pain echoed through the hallway, the moment Strife left the room. The sounds of screams, grunts of pains and pleading for mercy were all too common to his ears.

Cyrus however did not move. It would be foolish to go rushing into the room and finding him surrounded by hostile foes of unknown origins. It could be witches, werewolves or even the Moon Presence itself. Whatever it was, he had to be careful. The Cleaver and the Ludwig rifle would not have been his first preference in such a situation. In fact he would have preferred to know what he was fighting before he had even walked through the door.

Intelligence was what was important. Know your enemy and know yourself and you will never find yourself truly unsurprised. There was no such thing as a fair fight in Cyrus's opinion.

Only pragmatism.

Nevertheless the Cleaver would suffice for now. The Ludwig Rifle would be excellent if his enemies did not have the appropriate protection.

Cyrus silently shuffled through the hallway, the screams of the unfortunate becoming louder. He gripped his cleaver and rifle. Nevertheless it was paramount that he did not give his position away by firing it by accident.

While Cyrus was getting closer to the fighting he had no intention in being part of it. At the very most he would simply understand the occupants of this temple or castle and leave. However the door of the fortress made it incredibly difficult. He would have to walk past what was likely the main hall, before exiting. On the other hand there certainly was a chance that there was another way outside.

That was if the builders were wealthy or diligent enough to properly go through with such construction maneuvers. Most likely though, he would have gone through the fighting and that left several issues.

Once Cyrus was the appropriate distance he could easily make out some idea of what was going on.

Most of the screams had stopped. The fighting had also died down.

One side had won or all parties were dead. Furthermore there was a possibility that the winning party was going to go through door to door checks, making sure that there were no survivors. It was what most of the military would have done. That raised lots of other issues. He could wait, bid his time. Killing several of the agents involved might help him but sooner or later he would be overrun.

There was almost certainly an army out here. It would be impossible for him to win. There would certainly be no way to win. So that was it. He was meant to die here? Cyrus did not believe that. There was always a way to survive. Shaking his head, he returned to the room he found himself in previously.

All while ignoring the suffering of those just a few meters away from him.

The room he had found himself in was desolate. A few candles were scattered around the area. Otherwise there was nothing there. It seemed as if no one had lived in this location for years. Mold and dust gathered around the walls and floors, covering what was certainly carvings and paintings of some sorts.

He was in a religious building. How could he have not noticed this before? Cyprus mentally reminded himself that this was an unknown location and he had been thrust upon it without his own foreknowledge.

Nevertheless he continued to scan the room around him, hoping to find some clues. There was a window, above him but almost certainly out of reach for some reason. He investigated the walls of the room. Perhaps there were some ledges or holes or loose bricks he could use to escape. Certainly a building as old as this would have urban decay. Unfortunately his frustrating search had been a failure. The room itself was fairly used but in well-organized shape.

On one hand the bird droppings on the floor and the mold showed that it was improperly maintained. There was a pool of water leaking out the walls. Mites, spiders and flies made their home in this room. But there was no way he could escape. While the window had certainly been smashed to pieces with the glass littering the floor it seemed that the room was still intact. There was a hole in the ceiling, quite likely leading to another room, but Assad didn't want to risk it for two reasons.

The first reason was that it was crawling with insects, quite possible poisonous ones. It would be foolish attempt to climb through it with a proper plan. The second reason was that the ceiling itself was out of reach. While he did have his cleaver, his rifle and his clothing, that was all that seemed to be on his person. He did not have the necessary equipment to climb the hole.

From what he had gathered the room had probably been left to its own devices of eight or twelve years. Enough signs that the decay to set into the area, but not enough to totally remove the structures that made up this temple. If he had some rope he probably would have risked it.

At the moment he didn't.

Which left him with one option; fighting through what was the main room.

This was going to end horribly for all parties. Assad had maybe twenty or so silver bullets, and a saw cleaver. Strife also didn't have the appropriate protection as my clothing had gotten ripped in my fight with the Moon Presence. All in all, Strife was wholly unprepared.

Gliding to the hallway, Strife took a deep breath, remembering my life so far and asking one question.

What is my purpose?

I remember my childhood; my four sisters and older brother. Strife remember my father coming home from work and greeting my mother. Strife remember my mother lifting me up and carrying me home after Strife had gotten caned for misbehavior, assuring both herself and me that Strife wouldn't do it again. Strife remember the servants and children who Strife had grown up with. Strife remember the hours spent studying for the Imperial Service Exam. Strife remember studying for surveying and railway construction. Strife remember myself gaining the disease. Strife remember my time in the Yharnam. Strife remember the doll, Gehrman and all those beasts Strife faced.

I remember everything and will never forget it.

"What you're doing. You of all people!" exclaimed a woman in pain.

What is my purpose?

My purpose is to live to see my grandchildren have happy childhoods and get married.

That is my purpose.

"Keep the sacrifice still," ordered a second voice from the other room.

I remember never fighting for my life constantly before Yharnam. Let's hope they're unprepared for my arrival. Now though, fighting comes somewhat naturally to me. Strife take a deep breath …

… And kick open the door of the hallway.

Keeping my gun vertically perpendicular to my head Strife scan the room. All around me are people wearing suits of armor and metal shields. Their chests armor is symbolized by griffons and other magical creatures. Blue under-cloths and chainmail … was Strife in the past? Strife don't know.

What Strife do know is that my appearance had distracted them. Strife fire at one of the armored figures, letting the bullets rip through their bodies. My bloody and ripped crow-feather outfit scares them for an instant before they steel up once again. In the meantime Strife search for a door and find one guarded by two of the surprised guards. Strife would have made a dash for it weren't for one of the captives, an old woman in red robes, who used the opportunity to slap a green orb in my direction.

It was an action which would shake the very foundations of this new world. Whatever the orb was, it caused a shout of to come out of the creature that had been holding the old woman captive. It was a being that had the very basic image of what a human being should look like but it seemed as if it was made by a lazy sculptor.

All the proportions were wrong, and seemed to have given up on sculpturing the figure halfway through. The arms were thinner than what would reasonably expect with a body that seemed to be nothing but skin on bones. The face of the creature had a half hood of leather and various scales and red gems piercing out of the skin. No doubt the abomination had been cursed. The head was the right proportion but Cyrus couldn't help but feel that there was certainly something wrong with the way it was held in place.

Whatever the reason, it was done and now the abomination seemed motivated to stop him from picking up the Orb. Whatever it was the Orb was valuable. That meant it could be used as leverage which could be used as a way for him to get out of this siege.

"NO!" shouted the abomination who Strife would later learn to be Corypheus.

By then though, it was too late. He had picked up the orb, while readying and pointing my Ludwig rifle at him. If it moved a little closer, then he would shoot the abomination. Hopefully it would then die.

Alas though, this would not come to be. The moment Cyrus picked up the orb, pain surged through my left hand. The orb's green light pierced my very veins, digging itself deeper into my arm. Strife couldn't think for a few moments. All he could do was stand still in shock.

A flash of light engulfed the room sending shockwaves that pushed back everyone single person away from the orb.

So Cyrus ran.

Wherever Cyrus was, it certainly was not the castle or temple or fortress or whatever that place was before. No, Cyrus was in a twisted abomination of reality. The forces of nature and laws of man did not seem to exist here. That didn't matter. My pursuers might have been surprised by my actions and the consequences but Cyrus was not foolish enough to believe that they would not give chase.

So Assad ran.

My hopes would be that Assad would have found a way to escape my pursuers or gain enough distance from them. My body ached from the toil Strife had placed upon it before. That didn't stop me though. Pain was something Strife had dealt with. Once Assad had deemed myself safe Strife would have consider my options. While Assad was certainly away from my human opponents my presence here was attractive all kinds of creatures. Giant spiders, twisted humanoids and insectoids of deformed natures.

So Strife ran.

I certainly didn't have the hopes of being eaten and killed so sprinted as far away as Strife could. For nearly an hour Strife kept running non-stop, always, remaining ahead of my pursuers by a wide margin. While Strife was certainly remaining ahead of my pursuers Strife had no ideals that they would catch up with me. It seemed they were not bound by the laws of this realm as much as they were. Or maybe they were not bound by the same laws as mine. Whatever it was Strife was slowly getting tired.

It would be imminent that Strife find a safe place unless Strife wanted to die. Yet Strife couldn't see any location that Strife could cower under. Sweat dribble down my forehead and my neck. My palms itched and my fingers twitched. There was no way Strife was going to get out of this alive in the long term. While Strife was certain Strife could remain alive here for at least another day hunger, thirst and exhaustion would certainly catch up to me. There was no way out of this.

I scanned over the horizon. My pursuing monstrosities were kilometers away from me, yet Strife could not honestly say that it would remain that way for long. Over the cliff though, Strife could easily see a bright figure beckoning me to come towards it.

I had ignored it initially getting as far away from it as possible. Yet Strife found myself running out of options. Strife had led my hunters on a zigzag chase away from my initial starting point. Strife had fled into the mists of this realm. However Strife was not secure. My life was still in peril and that dammed woman seemed to be my only possibility of escaping this nightmare.

As Strife noticed before there were no corpses in this area, no way Strife could replenish my supplies. In fact Strife could easily say that my eighteen silver bullets and my saw cleaver would be the only thing that Strife would have at hand for the rest of my stay here. Strife needed a better weapon, better attire. Strife needed a lot of things if Strife wanted to stay here for duration.

Once again Strife cursed my lack of options and the idea that Strife would be forced to walk only one road. Assad dipped my head for a minute, letting myself catch my breath. It took longer than Strife expected but that was understandable. Strife had been running and fighting for a long time with little rest. Strife was exhausted. That didn't stop me though.

With that in mind Cyrus dashed to the bright woman whose beckoning was becoming even greater the closer Strife got to her. Clearly she had noticed that Strife was now listening to her. It might spell my death or it might be my only salvation. Whatever it was Strife sprinted to her, legs screaming in pain with Ludwig rifle in my right hand. My left hand had been aching with phantom pains for my duration of my stay here.

That didn't matter. Escaping alive was my greatest priority. My sprint seemed to have gotten the attention of the inhabitants of this realm who were also noticing my endeavor. They pursued my human figure, no doubt for an easy meal. Even if this turned out for a folly Strife refused to die here today.

Climbing the cliff wasn't not the greatest skill Assad had, yet it was only one Cyrus could use. It was time-consuming and problematic. In that few minutes those monstrosities slowly etched their way towards my person.

Not today.

I was just a few meters away from the woman. By now a fog had gathered around me, precipitation covered my hands as Strife taxed my bodies in ways it was not used to. Behind me the creatures followed in glee and ravish.

It didn't stop me. By the time the fingertips touched the woman's hands Strife could clearly see the bodies of the spiders that pursued me wanting a kill. Those abominations wanted to feast on my flesh. Cyrus wanted to craft weapons from their corpses and drink their blood.

It would be a tragedy for both parties and would have to wait another day.

The woman's fingertips touched mine, while Assad was still holding my rifle. In that instant there was a flash of light once again and Strife found myself in the world Strife had just escaped from; in destroyed ruins.

That didn't matter to me. Strife all Strife felt was pain and exhaustion. With that Strife slumped tiredly onto the ash floor.

The last sound Strife heard was shuffling of boots and their owners shouts of surprise and horror.

"NO!"