Dark Souls

Souls of the Fading Light

Chapter 2: You Died

Seth moved forward, placing his back against the moss covered stone. He peeked around the corner of the wall, his eyes darting from left to right in search of enemies. The area ahead was a simple staircase made of stone, leading upwards to a walkway that split off, both ways leading into what was once homes of the living.

Seth pulled his head back in, lessening his two-handed grip on his long sword as he gave a sigh of relief.

The Chosen Undead stood a ways off, twirling a small dagger between his gloved fingers.

"Any sign of hollows?" he asked, now tossing the weapon up in the air.

The boy shook his head.

"No. At least not down this way."

With a blur of movement, the Undead snatched the knife out of midair and slipped it in it's scabbard in one slick motion. He walked out of the confines of the cramped and smelly aqueduct, waving for Seth to follow him.

"Let's go."

Seth nodded, placing his sword in its' proper holding place with a small amount of difficulty. He never wielded a sword before until now. The few practice swings he did while resting at the Firelink Shrine before heading off were unwieldy and stiff. The boy would need practice and training to even stand a chance in the dangerous land.

The similarly armored duo rounded the corner and descended the old crumbling stone steps.

The Chosen Undead came to an abrupt stop halfway down, earning himself a face to the back. "Watch were you're going, boy." he reprimanded, turning to Seth with his arms folded. "You know what? Why don't you go ahead of me."

The Chosen Undead stepped to the side, nudging with his head for Seth to cover their front. The boy did so with a roll of his eyes, his hands on the pommel and grip of his sword. Both of them went up the steps and turned to an open area spread out before them. A small walkway made from the top of flat roofs, with only a few planks of wood working as a bridge to the left, where two tall building towered over them. The Chosen Undead knew these parts like a warrior knew how to parry. A small breath escaped his lungs. Time came to a slow crawl as he evaluated the situation.

'Three hollows. The one up front will be the first to attack. The second hollow beside the wooden planks that bridge the gap will most likely launch itself at either one of us. The third in the building to the left, armed with firebombs. Best way to approach? Defend Seth from second hollow. Leave the first one for him to kill. The other two? Hope for the best.'

A slow breath later and time fell back into place.

Immediately, the gaze of the first hollow fell upon them.

It readied its weapon. Seth, in turn, grabbed his own out of the scabbard on his back. His posture was lacking, his grip was too tight, and his hands were quivering despite his trying to still them.

Noticing, the Undead Warrior came forward and rested an armored hand upon his young friends shoulder.

"Relax." he encouraged. "It's only a hollow. Their minds are slow, their attacks easy to read. Dare not to fret. They are simple sport. Nothing more than a walking corpse with simple muscle memory to keep them moving."

With those words done, the Chosen Undead lightly pushed Seth toward the red eyed hollow. The teen almost tripped over his own boots before regaining his footing. The hollow attacked, its old rusted sword raised high as to get the best amount of power out of the overhead chop. Seth raised his sword to block, the ring of steel against iron echoed throughout the Undead Burg.

Down below, the rabid dogs' ears perked up at the noise and sniffed the air for but a moment before they continued to feast on the small uninfected rodent they managed to catch. Behind the corner of a shabby, ram-shackled house stood a young sorcerer with medium length brown hair, his attire that of sorcerer's from Vinheim. He looked up as the noise echoed throughout the narrow streets. What in Izalith is going on up there? he thought to himself. Another thought was about to come through his rather intelligent mind but the snarling of a rabid dog drew his attention away. Looking back down, three dogs slowly made their way to him, staying low to the ground to pounce at any moment. Nobody heard his cry for help as they descended upon him like a flash of black lightning.

The hollow stumbled back as the sword bounced off. It went for a jab, the sword missing the raven haired teens' side by the width of a hair. Seeing an opportunity, Seth turned quickly and cut off the hollows sword hand with a clean stroke. The thing let out an inhuman screech as black blood sprayed out from the severed wrist into the cool morning air, falling to the ground in pain. Looking down, it spied its still bleeding hand and began to reach for its lost appendage.

Seth did not know what to do as the hollow picked up its rotted severed hand and tried desperately to re-attach it to the bloody wrist. The hollow kept trying relentlessly, its gaunt face riddled with a shadow of pain and frantic worry. The thing might have been mindless, but it still held a shred of self-preservation. A shred of its humanity.

Realizing that its' attempt was futile, the hollow reached out dropped its severed hand and reached for the broken sword where it lied on the cold stone. Seth barely registered the action and swiftly moved out of the way to avoid a low attack that came straight at his ankle.

Adrenaline pumping through him, Seth rushed at the hollow, kicking its rusted broken sword out of its skeletal hand and shoving his sword through its' soft, decaying skull. Black blood shot upward at the young man, getting in his eyes and splattering onto his face. He let go of his sword immediately and brought both of his hands to his face, trying desperately to get the black blood out of his eyes and off his face. He hissed with pain as he rubbed his eyes, unaware of the second hollow coming at him, battle axe raised in the air for a clean kill.

Only, the attack never came as Seth blinked, his vision became a little bit better. The Chosen Undead stood before the hollow, the dagger he was tossing earlier now the only thing barring the battle axe's sharp blade from Seth's flesh. The man held his ground against the hollows struggling strength as it tried to push the man's small weapon down. Watching on, Seth half expected the dagger to break in half from the strain, yet the opposite became fact as a sharp ring of steel rang out as a chunk of metal flew into the air, the top half of the axe missing its head. The hollowed soldier looked dumbly at the now useless weapon before it was stabbed right in the gut, glowing red eyes fading before it's executioner kicked it off the daggers blade.

All was quiet as the bodies of two hollows lied still on the ground, blood pooling from their corpses. Seth stood where he was, unsure if to spill his guts at the sight or be terrified at what had just transpired. Thankfully, the other near human being that accompanied him turned back around to face him before he could do so. Stepping over the bodies, the Chosen Undead reached down for the sword Seth had dropped and grabbed its hilt. He threw it up into the air and caught it by the tip of the blade, offering it to the young man.

Seth gingerly extended his arm to grab the sword and lifted its blade up, instead of pulling it from the man's grasp so as not to cut his hand with the blade. Uncertainty was written on his face as his arm relaxed down at his side while his savior looked at him. Truth be told, the man was not sure whether he should chastise the boy for his foolishness or praise him for a decent first kill. After a few more awkward moments, and making certain the boy did not soil himself in fear...he decided to go with both. He pointed down at the boys' weapon and began to speak, his voice having a cold sharpness to it.

"Foolish boy. What were you thinking, abandoning your weapon like that?" he said as he stepped closer to Seth. He raised his hand above the boys head as if to strike but rather placed it on the top of the metal helm Seth wore, earning an even more confused look than the one Seth had before.

'What, is he going to say he's proud of me or something?' he thought.

Pulling his hand down, the Chosen Undead slammed the face covering of the helm, shielding the boy's face from feeling the warm sunlight that filtered through the clouds above.

"There is a reason I wear this helm closed." he punctuated, pointing to his own face."Battle is a bloody mess, something I learned early on in my adventures. You'd best get used to it and adapt accordingly."

Seth nodded sheepishly, gripping his weapon tighter.

"I will, thanks."

The Chosen Undead patted him in the shoulder lightly.

"Don't think anything of it.", he said as he began to very quickly make his way over to the small bridge to their left.

Before his foot even stepped onto the cobblestone, he swiftly removed the shield off his back and brought it to cover his left side. Seth quirked an eyebrow from behind the older man but said nothing, because he did not know what lied in wait.

That was when a loud boom was heard, and fire spewed forth from the shield, giving Seth cause for alarm. He stood and watched as the fire faded into smoke, leaving an unharmed Chosen Undead standing with his shield still raised.

"I hate this guy." he mumbled as he back-stepped away from the open doorway he stood beside.

Out from the door way came a small sphere, heading straight towards the armored warrior, but instead of blocking it with his shield like before, he reached out towards the sphere and caught it with ease.

"This thing is called a firebomb, young man." announced the warrior, holding the black orb for Seth to see. "They are not your friend if used against you."

The firebomb was tossed up and down a few times as if the Chosen Undead was testing its weight, his gaze fixed firmly upon it. His mind made up, the firebomb was gripped firmly in his hand as he brought his right arm back. Hand behind his head, he was wound up and ready to spring. The hollow standing in the precipice of the building before him had a blank look on its face, having no clue to its impending doom.

With what looked to be the speed and strength of a thousand men, the Chosen Undead threw the fireball right back at the owner. A mischievous smile was hidden behind his closed helm, happy with the reward of a satisfactory explosion of fire.

He stood still for what seemed like an eternity, watching the flames that remained flickering on the now blackened and scorched stone within the two-story building.

It was mesmerizing to be sure, he could watch the fire from a bonfire for hours and be amazed at the way it danced around without a care in the world.

A world that is falling apart at the seams his inner voice spoke. A world that should be crumbling into dust yet...it struggles to keep itself afloat by feeding upon the dwindling life-force of a so called god.

Letting out a sigh, the Chosen Undead looked over to where his young ward was standing, only to find the spot empty. Cursing the aforementioned god under his breath, he turned on his heels and moved straight into the building that was once behind him. Given his faster pace, the warrior cared not to inspect the details of the building he was in having made his way through it many a time before. He knew to his left there would be a near empty space, save for a few barrels, that could be considered a whole other room, separating the space he was in by three archways that supported the upper floor with stone columns. He could smell the rotting pine of the wooden beam that looked to be strung through the archway for additional supporting power to add to the structures longevity. He had to give credit to the builders of the Undead Burg and the rest of the god's forsaken country he was in, they built it all to last.

Hurrying up the moss covered steps two at a time, the man exited the building by ascending up yet more steps made of gray stone, both his sides flanked by tall stone walls that tapered off at the end of the steps, as if melting away to give him a good view at the area that was spread out before him, yet still shielding his vulnerable flanks. The path was much wider than the small stair way, allowing him a better range of movement if he so wished. Hearing the ring of steel against steel and the cocking of a crossbow, the Chosen Undead sped up his pace into a sprint, unsheathing his dagger that rested on his belt. He practically glided up the last ten steps, almost in a worried panic. What he saw once he relinquished his forward momentum was not what he was expecting.

A single hollow soldier lying on the ground, its bowels strewn across the floor like a animal. From a short glance, the undead knight spied the things lower jaw unhinged on one side blood pooling from the cut bone and tissue. He nearly wanted to make a note to himself to not give the young man such a sharp sword. Speaking of the boy in question, Seth himself was in the process of kicking the other hollowed soldier away, holding his shield over his left side to protect himself from the archer above while his sword was gripped firmly in his right hand. The boy stood no more than twenty paces away from the knight, with his back to the wooden barricades that were erected long ago. The Chosen Undead stood back and debated with himself, unsure whether or not to see how the scene would unfold or to divert his attention to the pesky archer. Gods knew he hated that one in particular, feeling the phantom pain of a wound it had inflicted upon his shoulder many years ago, the scar now a pale streak on his lightly colored flesh. In an instant, he made up his mind and with a sly grin upon his features the warrior rushed forth.

Seeing the hollow stumble backwards a few inches, the chosen undead quickly got behind it and pushed it from behind. He could have sworn the red glow of the hollows eyes brightened in shock as it found itself falling towards his younger physical abuser, its' weight pushing Seth onto the ground who cried out a yelp of surprise. Thankfully, the hollows weapon was strewn somewhere on the floor, having lost it earlier in the scuffle. Now all Seth had to do was inflict a killing blow to end its existence. And end it he did, by shoving the hollow forcefully off of him, which ended up plopping down to the right of the still prone young man. With the hollow still lying on the ground to his side, Seth swiftly pushed himself up off the ground, grasping the metal handle of a scavenged shield as he did. With one hand, he pulled his sword back and drove it into the hollows midsection, but he was not done just yet. Letting go of the sword hilt, he gripped the shield by its sides and then as if smashing a rock into a melon, crushed the hollows decaying skull with the blunt end of the round shield. It was bloody, it was messy but it definitely helped the boy roll some stress off his back.

Retrieving his sword from the now headless corpse, Seth looked up to where the archer once was, noticing a different being in its look out spot. Feeling perturbed after what just occurred, Seth opened his mouth to roar in anger but it never came.

There was a roar, of course. Yet it was not from his own maw. His heart beat was racing, and yet he could swear there was another beat along with his own he could discern. Scrunching up his brow in thought, it was then that Seth could hear the flapping of rather large wings. It was different than the bird that had flown them away from the Asylum to be sure, birds did not roar after all.

It was only for a fleeting moment that he was able to turn around and see the terrifying beast that was flying towards their location. Red as blood, covered in scales and flying on leathery wings with clawed feet dangling from muscled legs midflight.

The Hellkite Drake gave no pause as it flew right towards Seth, its maw wide open as it roared once more as if in warning. Except it was too late.

The Chosen Undead stood stone cold, his face unemotional as he watched that damned Hellkite Drake spew forth a column of fire from its mouth, guaranteeing anything in its path a painful death. Seth was fried to a crisp instantly, his body burning up into ashes as all non-crazed undead do when they die. The only remnant of him left was the small film of green goo that was on the ground, a testament to others than a fellow undead had died. The boy would revive at the Firelink Shrine as it was common these days. He knew he should rush back and see that the boy was okay...But the Chosen Undead did nothing. In In silence, continuing to watch the remnants of the dragon fire burn the cobblestone and the now chard barricades. Seeing fire always brought a sense of foreboding to him, because it was that very fire that would be his end.

"Bound by fates wheel, only to burn into unkindled ash." he said, reaching out at a ember that flew by his hand, grasping the small fleck of flame in a closed fist. "Ashes to ashes we go."

TO BE CONTINUED

AN: Well, it's been three years that I've held on to this chapter, slowly working on it over time as life decides to pop in and murder me with both writers block, stupid situations and lack of drive to continue. But now I have completed this, woohoo! The chapter essentially went as I wanted it to go but the end scene where Seth gets burnt to nothingness was not planned. Originally the yet to be named Chosen Undead was supposed to rush up the steps after hearing the drakes roar, only to see Seth running along the narrow pathway only to get smashed to bits by the dragons feet when it lands on the bridge like thing. It was supposed to be humorous and the chapter would continue into the things I now moved to Chapter 3, but alas the certain scenes of writing never go according to plan.

Now that that is over, please be excited for the character heavy chapter 3, which features many of the characters in the Firelink Shrine and even characters far into the future...wait what? Did you hear that right? Yes, this story will be written in a way to incorporate Dark Souls I and Dark Souls II, while taking creative liberties to the overarching plot. It'll be fun boys and girls!