Over Three hundred souls he had consumed, three hundred white masked beasts he had slain, and his candle had turned into a small fire providing a warmth and light against the bleakness of this realm. Truly he had learned much for with each soul he consumed he had learned more about where he was, names that meant nothing became detailed stories and places that he had never believed possible became fond memories that swirled within his mind. His camp now began to resemble the shrine where he had first undertaken his journey, though no companions came to his aid like that did in those times. His body had begun to change too, his leathery skin had remained the same however, armour and a shield appeared on his body that resembled Astoran smithing and the rock he had so painfully carved had gone from a simple rock to the broken sword of the hollow unto a straight sword sharp and true.
He had not forged the sword nor had he found the armour, it had simply come to his body as he slept by the grace of whatever God still held him in its favour. The dead among him had ceased their attacks on his camp and it had become harder to hunt the smaller ones, they ran as soon as they spied his form crest the horizon. There did lie the deadlier of foes below and further into the desolate wastelands, despite these deadlier foes he was not concerning himself with them. There was another foe he wished to kill, one he sometimes spied on his hunts, the Hollow that had killed him all that time ago.
He remembered the vague direction he wandered and from the memories he had swallowed he knew the beasts lair lay in the pale moons glare and in the glare of the grand citadel.
His heavy feet took him toward the memories of death and pain. His path cleared of smaller beasts that grew afraid of him and his mind set on his vengeance cold and calculated he approached the caves. He lowered the visor of his helmet and smiled as the beasts maw opened, he was ready this time.
The beast gathered its strange energies within its mouth and the moment he saw it his reflexes took over and he rolled out of the way. The beast looked surprised that it had not stopped his march forward towards it and it charged another blast toward him. His legs sprung into action and he began his mad dash toward the beast it fired once again and he rolled out of the way once again.
It attempted one last time to fire it's blast at him.
By the time it had charged it's blast the undead warrior had reached his prey and he lowered his shoulder ducking beneath the beasts jaw, with speed he was unaware he possessed, and rose forcing his shoulder into its jaw and causing it to fire into the dark sky. He raised his sword and attempted to pierce the hide of the creatures neck, his sword straight and true, it stuck the beast through with little difficulty. He rolled backward raising his sword as the beast thrashed and roared at him speaking in that strange language all these things spoke. The wound he had made spilled black clarit onto the sands only to close with raising steam.
The beast could regenerate then.
It lunged at his throat after realising he would not respond to whatever it was saying. His shield raised on instinct alone and it's jaws snapped shut on the astoran steel, the frame creaking and threatening to break under the pressure of the beasts attack.
The beast had incredible regeneration, like the smaller ones, but this ones seemed to keep him alive while the others simply went unconscious. So he did the logical thing.
He attacked the presented target of the beasts mask.
His sword slipped beneath one of the beasts void eye sockets. The undead began to pry causing the beast to try and twist and thrash against him, roaring in pain once more. He tore his shield from the beasts mouth and slung a leg over the back of the beast digging his sword deeper into its white skull with his own roar he could feel it's mask being torn off from its face.
Then it began to beg.
He did not need to know it's language to know what begging sounded like, its roars turning into high pitched squeals of panic and pain as it realised he could not be shaken from its back. He was silent as he pried the things mask from its face, cracking it in half, as he pried his sword upwards.
It let out one final squeal of pain and fired off more blasts in all directions as he finally killed the beast.
