Europa Universalis is a good game and all, but I should have at least updated that yesterday instead of binging the former for six hours straigth with Extended Timeline.

Curtains up!

Kavas had left vision wards during his escape to the lookout, and he knew roughly what had happened with Marcus. His runetable had shattered in an explosion of fire and ash, probably reacting somehow with the runic entity's own magic.

"By the Veil", Kingfist let out in utter despair after seeing his senior's state.

Marcus had taken the worst of it. He'd looked, after the smoke dispersed, like a ghoul, his skin virtually gone with the runetable while the rest of his flesh was roasted to anthracite. Due to some miracle (or, more likely, some curse, he thought), he seemed to yet live, but it would not have seemed for long, since the creature, unscathed by his elements, marched toward the Summoner with satisfaction in his face.

Kavas grit his teeth almost to the breaking point. There was nothing he could do at this point but sound the retreat (except if one desired to be burned alive, and leave his comrade to die), something he'd grown quite reluctant against. His senior might have been Noxian, but he was his first field commander that actually fought for something higher than himself, and no one deserved to be cooked alive. He forced himself to watch through his wards what he believed would be Marcus expiring.

Some feet away from the crawling corpse, the ash cloud summoned by the explosion began to whirl onto itself in the shape of a sphere. The winds it created were strong enough to distract the Fire Man and drown Marcus' howlings.

For a moment, the cloud stood still.

And then, there was fire. A blinding flame burned into the center of the cloud, dancing with its accelerating inner whirls.

And just like it came, the fire went, leaving only falling ash. As it cleared, a shade appeared gradually in the center. Humanoid, sitting on his knees, wearing some strange, intimidating armor, the newcomer did not flinch, or make one hint of a movement.

For a moment, the Summoner was confused, until he decided that rune-born warriors birthed in an ash storm might be a threat too.

Kavas concentrated on his communication spell, and before his squad's supervisor could even confirm her presence, he declared :

Councilor, before even the formalities... Marcus is almost dead, his runetable reacted to the target, and now I've got a... "Guest" situation here.

A threatening silence was held from the Institute's side. Kingfist verified his connection again, and found it normal. He began to sweat coldly.

The Institute did not like "guests", but they hated those who "brought them over" even more. Kavas cringed as the ominous silence persisted.

Let's hope it's a polite "guest".

There was light again. Blinding light that forced him to wince, as to its contrast with the Dark.

The Ashen One, at first, could not believe it. The Flame was gone, after all ; how could there be disparity? Yet here it was. The smell of ash and cinders was the same as it once was, but there was warmth anew.

The Unkindled tried again to lift his eyelids.

There were flames, tiny fires, dancing on the ground. Just like she said there'd be.

He got up, unsteadily. He knew not how long he had waited in the Dark, but it seemed it left him weakened. No matter, he thought, no matter right now.

He walked toward the closest of those flames, kneeled before it, then picked it up with its embers. The fire danced, young and strong. So unlike the First Flame, when held by the Firekeeper, kneeling in ash.

He paused, and remembered her light hand on his gauntlet, which he did not feel upon regaining his senses. A quickly settled terror grabbed his dead heart as he turned around.

She was not there.

The Ashen One felt an immense void in his guts, as he realized, searching her by sight, that not only was she gone, but he wasn't in the Kiln anymore. He recognized the feeling.

It was despair that gripped him.

After having observed the area around him in a panic, the Ashen One noticed something that distracted him so greatly he put the Firekeeper's fate aside; beyond the blackened wood protruding from the ground. It was unfamiliar. Uncanny, even.

There was a burning man there. Turning his back to him.

The Ashen One met many fiery creatures during his voyage throughout Lothric and the World's Edge. Many one of them manipulated either the Flames of Chaos, born of Izalith, like the Demons, and the True Fire of the First Flame, like the Lords he battled.

But never had he met a being made of fire. The whole notion made him think that he was in the presence of some lost First Lord, which made him extremely wary.

Step by step, he carefully approached the being. He turned his head to meet the Champion of Ash's sight. His eyes burned the same as his hands and cranium. He turned around to better face the Ashen One.

Then he visibly sniffed, and took a puzzled look, before speaking words the Unkindled could not understand :

"Uh. You're already completely burned."

The Ashen One noted the curiosity of the flaming man, before noticing something moving where the latter once faced, behind him.

Someone was crawling very slowly on the ground, as if trying to escape. His body was in bad condition, with burns having taken away most of his flesh. He let out a ghastly, low-register howl.

What, still here?

The Ashen One drew his sword and took his stance in surprise. Before him now stood Gael, with his red cowl and beard, but it wasn't Gael; without his broken sword and hunch, and with the Dark Sign branding his very body with the Dark Soul of Man, Gael was long gone. The Hollow before him, Devourer of the Pygmees, destroyed the slaveknight, a destruction the old man had willingly embraced prior, for "his Lady's painting".

Gael chuckled at his opponent's actions. In his hands some dark fluids whispered a damning song, answering the crackling of his own sword. He spoke in tongues the Unkindled did not understand; some Abyss-speak, maybe :

"The inside is still undercooked in that one, Burned One. Out of my way."

The Ashen One readied his Sunlight Talisman in his off-hand, ready to cast his necessities.

Gael roared and began the battle with his Soul Explosion, launching the darkfire entities around himself. The Ashen One quickly rolled backward, fast enough to see Gael loading his crossbow.

The Unkindled leaped behind a smoldering tree trunk to evade the bolts. He quickly glanced above to see Gael leap onto his cover, and with an sky-shattering roar Gael launched the dark energy of his palm at him.

Once more, the Champion rolled, this time to his right side, thrusting and retracting his charged blade into the Hollow's side, below the ribcage. It grunted in pain, before throwing his assailant away.

Gael took a hand to his side. He seemed enraged at the sight of the Blood, and roared again toward the Ashen One.

Something was wrong.

The Unkindled remembered Gael. Gael marveled at the Dark Soul's blood last time they met. His sword was also gone, and his erratic movement were not the ones he used after his first serious injury.

But more than anything else, the slaveknight died, Hollow or not, at the Pygmees' feet. He made sure of that himself. The Ashen one remembered ramming him through with his Irythill Sword.

The Ashen One's mind screamed at him that it was both at the same time. Why? How?

Gael overlooked him from over his shoulder, finally tearing away from his injuries to focus on his foe. The Ashen One saw his cowl and beard caught fire in a hellish draft, his figure clouded in flames erupting from his very being, until Gael was no more, and the man of fire was once more in front of the Champion of Ash, his hands readying deadly flames burning with destructive resolve.

The Ashen One retreated with a roll, avoiding the pillar of flame that formed where he was previously fallen, using a rock as a support to stand upright. He took his Estus Flask and took one gulp of the golden liquid. His mind calmed itself, making the difference between reality and memories at last. He took his stance once more.

The Burning Man clutched his side, his legs almost giving in as he held onto a petrified branch of pine to his left, much to the Ashen One's surprise. Rare were the enemy usually staggered by one thrust, much less the first one.

This would be rather enjoyable, compared to his fight with Friede and the Incarnation of Cinders.

Brand could not land a hit.

The Husk was very, very nimble, and his... Peculiar properties made him by default the Burning Vengeance's worst match-up.

"Die", he ordered the creature exasperately and repeatedly as he launched away masses after masses of fire spells, only for them to be dodged expertly. "Die already! Why won't you die?"

And it came again. The moment he stopped to evaluate his enemy's situation, he was already overwhelmed. This time, the Ash Warrior took his left eye in a slash. As a runic creature, it was merely a temporary setback, but still Brand screamed as cold magic coursed through him and agony was numbing his senses. He released his fire, most of what was available, forward, but the creature leapt to the Burning Vengeance's left side.

You think a blind spot will save you? he thought, enraged at this pile of moving ash standing in his way.

The Husk lunged toward his enemy, but he found Brand ready for him : he created a pillar of fire on his own position and jumped to his right side.

The Ash Warrior took a direct hit.

The Ashen One felt the burns gaining upon his body.

This Fire was different of that which he met in the past. An Unkindled, per its status as effectively less than ash, had strong resistance to fire; not unlimited, but it certainly prevented flames from usually spreading on his form.

Usually.

But these flames were hungry. They gnawed at his already burned corpse, refusing to let go even as his armor turned red from heat and his flesh turned to cinders.

Must be some form of magic, he thought. He then cursed himself for forsaking preparations with an unknown opponent.

The Ashen One wondered if this is what the Lords endured by sacrificing themselves to the Primordial Fire. He wondered if that was the same sensation he felt when he was fed to the Kiln, leading to his Unkindling, so long ago.

And suddenly, the flames stopped, as if wished away. Footsteps could be heard, slowly walking away in the cinders toward the South.

The Ashen One, confused, got up slowly, his flesh cracking and tearing apart as his legs struggled to hold his armor's weight. The footsteps had stopped. The Undead lifted his head to gauge his opponent once more.

The Burning Man seemed absolutely horrified to see him standing up once more.

Kingfist's mouth was left ajar at what he witnessed. He began concentrating on the Institute's link again.

Councilor.

Summoner, a very cold impersonal voice in his head answered back. He clearly, and without the earlier hesitation, stated his needs :

You will get me back-up for the "guest" we've communicated about. Now.

The Ashen One slowly circled around his foe, his movements unnaturally tense due to his burns. The Fire Man looked completely overwhelmed at his mere presence. He did not even try to send fire his way like earlier.

The Unkindled used the cover of a burned down pine just inside his trajectory, in-between him and the enemy, to gulp one more dose of Estus.

Now that's better, he thought, as his movements once more turned fluid. He could still, however, feel that his skin was still charred almost to black, and the unease lurking in the back of his evermore darkened heart.

As he emerged from behind the glassed trunk, he saw the determined expression on the visage of the Fiery Being. The Ashen One immobilized himself, and took his battle stance.

Fire gathered in front of the creature's torso, weakening its surrounding aura and the flames covering its body. Sensing danger, the Unkindled lightened his stance to prepare a hasty dodge.

The creature without its fiery exterior reminded him of the dormant old Demon King, somewhat, althought without as many rough edges upon his form. His amassed fire formed a very dense orb glowing blue in its center with intensity, something the Ashen One took as a very bad sign.

Then, the orb simply went off, like a crossbow bolt, toward him. Barely able to register the attack, the Warrior sidestepped, and got grazed in the right shoulder. Atrocious pain followed, numbing his senses almost as to blind him to the projectile bouncing back on a scorched stone cavity to the North straigth back to him.

The Ashen One readied his Talisman in his left hand, and cast off Great Magic Barrier as he took a direct hit in the right flank. First came the warmth, then came tetanizing agony as the flames leeched his entire body. He scratched his earlier thoughts and held now that this was as close to Linking the Fire one could get.

Fortunately, it seemed his magic absorbtion held still. Already the flames were dimming in intensity and the pain subsided on the rest of his body, unlike his right shoulder, still withering with unnatural magics.

Struggling to lift his head from his cowered prone, he noticed, as he looked around, that the Burning Man was nowhere to be seen.

He escaped.

This simple evidence unleashed both relief and concern in the Ashen One's heart : the former because he survived that last attack without punishing consequences, and the latter because such a powerful foe had escaped, and the Unkindled doubted his intentions would be pure.

A cough coming from several feet away brought the Ashen One back to reality. He used his only good arm left to cast Bountiful Sunlight, hoping the poor man was inside the vicinity of the miracle.

Turning around to be on his back instead of his painfully sensible right side, the Ashen One wondered where the closest bonfire was. He would ask the burned one for information on that once he would have recovered : it was the least he could have done after driving back that monster.

Freed from the rigid stress of battle, his thoughts drifted again to the Firekeeper, the knot in his stomach intensifying once more as he imagined her alone in the Dark. He banished this fear at once, leaving himself tired and depressed.

I sure could use a rest right now.

Well, this was long to edit.

Originally that chapter was done Sunday Evening, but I was largely unsatisfied by what I wrote : the action was precipitated, the first section was somehow written at the end, the Ashen One turned Ashen Sue, Kavas turned into a Shonen Series Fight Commentator, and Marcus would have been probably dead by the next chapter, something I saw as a waste of perfectly good character and plotlines.

Naturally, this was rewritten from scratch. The only thing that survived the culling without major retouching was the second section.

And yes, Brand grabbed the stupid ball in the middle of the fight and didn't follow up on his Pillar of Flame, and for two very good reason :

One, this'd be the first time Brand fights something that isn't a rune mage and does not get away with it according to the chronology of his own lore. I imagine it's giving him quite the swelled ego.

The second one is that he didn't know the Ashen One was undead, and as such didn't bother to turn Ash into even more ash. Why would he? As far as he knew, falling to the ground to roll and exhaust his flames were natural reaction to what he perceived was people dying, not people trying not to die, which I believe is a major difference of situational interpretation in someone as psychologically stunted as Brand.

Lastly, about the whole Fake;Gael part.

There's this wonderful phenomena, settling in gradually, that happens in Lothric when undeads and unkindled alike lose their purpose and hope in unlife...

And I'm not going further. That's all folks! Next chapter coming soon!