The Pilgrim took a deep breath, marveling at the feeling. He refilled his flask with Estus before standing. He headed back onto the balcony. His journey downward had been rewarding to be sure, but merely by chance. It appeared that he'd need to head across the burned bridge. He drew his sword, creeping slowly across the bridge. He kept an eye on the drake, who still appeared to be sleeping above the gate of the church. It didn't appear to be awake, much less aware of him, but the Pilgrim decided to err on the side of caution and keep careful watch on it anyway.

His crossing was uneventful, and he found shards of clay that told him the fire was probably from the firebombs that the hollows tended to throw. He couldn't imagine what would cause them to attack each other though, as appeared to be the case here. He exited the gatehouse on the other side and headed deeper into the Burg.

He encountered only a few hollows, which he was able to dispatch with ease. He sighted a staircase that gave him a vague feeling of déjà vu, but he couldn't place why. Heading toward them he saw a few hollows in armor milling about, he also noted the stairs being blocked with debris. He held back, waiting to see what the hollows were doing. They were all grouped together in a small area, and he could see why upon closer inspection.

At the bottom of the staircase was a pool of what appeared to be blood, though it constantly bubbled and didn't seem to be entirely corporeal. The reason he knew the hollows were attracted to it though was that he could feel the wealth of souls it contained, even from so far away. He felt almost drawn to it himself really. Drawing his sword silently, he moved as stealthily as possible toward them.

He covered about three quarter of the distance between them when one of them noticed him. It drew its sword and came charging at him. The Pilgrim took up a defensive stance, deflecting the hollow's blade with his shield and plunging his sword into it. The other two came rushing in shortly after, but the Pilgrim dispatched them as well. Sheathing his sword, he headed over to the bloodstain to investigate. He knelt down and reached out his hand toward it.

The moment his hand drew near, the blood evaporated in a green mist which shot into his mouth and nose as he gasped in surprise. He felt a swell of energy within him as the souls were absorbed. More shocking however was the rush of memories that returned to him. He felt as though his head would surely split in two as the events leading up to his death were dredged up by the bloodstain.

The barrel and the knight... He realized now that the trap had been reset, with a hollow no doubt waiting to shove a barrel at him. He glanced about, seeing no trace of the knight. He was about to head to the staircase and trick the hollow into pushing the barrel, but then he had an idea. He looked over the edge of the railing, seeing the balcony he'd fallen on previously. He knew the knight would be waiting somewhere down there.

He doubled back, taking a fork in the road and eventually finding a staircase that led down to the knight, who stood stone still in the middle of an alley. A corpse lay behind him in a pool of dried blood, no doubt from the large gash in its side.

The Pilgrim waited for the knight to notice him, but came to realize that it either couldn't see him or it wasn't concerned with him. Feeling a bit off put, the Pilgrim edged closer with sword in hand. He had to get within fifteen feet of the knight, which he was admittedly nervous about, before it finally took up its sword and assumed a defensive stance.

He waited for it to attack, ready to retreat, but it just stood there. He thought about leaving it there, but he felt a desire for revenge and determined to destroy it one way or another. As the Pilgrim inched closer, the knight suddenly sprang into action. He twisted the sword he had been leaning on into his hands and lashed out at the Pilgrim.

The Pilgrim leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the massive blade. The sword clashed into the wall, sending bits of masonry flying and doing no apparent damage to the sword. The Pilgrim backpedalled, but the knight pressed his attack. The Pilgrim shielded the blow, and received a massive dent in his shield for the trouble. All illusion of hope shattered, he turned and fled.

The knight pursued him tirelessly, taking a swing when the gap between them shrunk, but the Pilgrim maintained his lead. He nearly turned back toward the bonfire, but then he had an idea. He turned back toward the stairs, and the knight followed only steps behind. He ran halfway up the stairs, stopping and turning back toward the knight. The knight brought his blade up and it came crashing down in a powerful overhead swing.

The Pilgrim leapt onto the railing at the last moment, and the knight's sword collided with the stone stairs. The knight recovered quickly, bringing his sword level and preparing to strike again. The Pilgrim was in a disadvantageous position, and would have been doomed if the barrel the hollow had pushed down the stairs hadn't collided with the knight.

The barrel had been filled with some form of tar, and it burst upon the knight's armor, the force of the blow knocking the knight off its feet. The Pilgrim leapt at the recovering knight, stabbing his blade into its chest. An unearthly screech came from its helmet, and black soot spilled from the wound, but the knight continued to move. The Pilgrim wrenched his blade upward, the knight's armor giving way with a terrible scraping noise.

Soot continued to pour from its armor and it fell back to the ground, writhing and dropping its blade. The Pilgrim's victory was short lived however as his back exploded with pain and he fell forward on top of the knight. He could feel blood pouring from a large wound in his back, and he turned to see the hollow that had set the trap raising its axe to finish him off.

The Pilgrim lashed out blindly with his foot, catching the hollow in the side of the leg and sending it toppling. The Pilgrim grabbed his flask from his belt and took a draught, feeling the pain in his back lessen, though the wound didn't heal completely. The Pilgrim got to his feet shakily, running the hollow through before it could rise. He turned to the knight to see that it was back on its feet, and had just picked up its blade.

Without a second thought the Pilgrim lunged, his sword held in both hands. The knight attempted to bash him in the head with the hilt of its blade, but its aim was off. The Pilgrim took a jarring blow to the shoulder as he simultaneously slammed his blade into the knight's armor.

The Pilgrim fell to the ground with a broken shoulder and the knight's armor rent open, meeting the previous damage the pilgrim had done. The Pilgrim blade snapped from the force of the blow, but the knight began to twitch violently as ash shot from its armor more violently than ever. Suddenly its armor began to disintegrate into ash as well until only its sword remained, which clattered on the stone steps.

The Pilgrim brought the flask back to his mouth and took another draught, his wounds healing fully this time. As he stood up, a wave of souls flooded into him and he had to catch his breath. That knight had some power within him! The Pilgrim recovered quickly, shaking off the slight euphoria and clearing his mind. He sighed as he cast the broken sword aside, it had served him well. He kept the sheath, in case he found another sword that would fit it. The axe burst forth in flame as he called it out of the Darksign, and he threaded it through his belt.

He walked over to the fallen knight, or at least the pile of ash that had once been a knight. The Pilgrim pondered how such a powerful creature could just crumble into a pile of dust like that. He attributed it to one of the many oddities of this land, turning his attention to more pressing matters. He sifted through the ashes of the knight on a whim and found two oddly shaped stones, perhaps some sort of ornaments that had been on its armor? He stored them within the Darksign, figuring to ask the crestfallen warrior he'd met earlier about them. He seemed knowledgeable, if cowardly.

The Pilgrim picked up the sword next, or tried to anyway. The thing was huge, and heavier than it looked to boot. He managed to lift it above his head with two hands, letting it drop and giving it some extra force. A portion of the stair beneath him exploded into shards, giving him a sense of satisfaction. This was a wonderfully crafted blade, but too heavy for normal use. Then he recalled the soul strengthening method the warrior had taught him. He'd been doing so much he'd nearly forgotten.

He contemplated going back and trying it, but based on the result of his last attempt he doubted the power he had now would be enough to help him wield the sword effectively. Instead he stored the blade in the Darksign as well, knowing it would eventually come in handy.

The Pilgrim turned and began ascending the stairs once more, finally able to head up the tower and closer to the cathedral and the first bell.