Chapter 10: Revisitation; Back to Byrgenwerth
Answers in the Dark Arc
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.
Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.
"Where Dreams Die" - Ultimate Custom Night OST. Scene 1 (First & Second Halves).
"Sacred Distance" - Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance OST. Scene 3 (First & Second Halves).
In the land of Yharnam, close to the rich city of Byrgenwerth, there once lived an infamous serial killer.
The media there, and the officials hunting them, referred to them as simply the 'Byrgenwerth Butcher'.
Rumoured to be a man of incredible strength and intelligence, the Byrgenwerth Butcher managed to amass an untold amount of victims in his rise to infamy. From street workers to government officials and even those affiliated with the Healing Church, the Byrgenwerth Butcher knew no bounds from his sick and depraved acts of slaughter.
In the height of his infamy the Butcher, forced to evict himself from his native land, leaves Byrgenwerth a free man but in some strange, unknown twist, somehow he finds himself thrust into the position as the Hunter's Dream's next dreaming hunter. He leaves himself only one word with which to stay his course, even in an amnesic state.
'Paleblood'.
Scene 1
Stewart gasped as he dragged himself across the ground painfully, his injuries becoming severe. Far off into the darkened streets of Yharnam came the echoing calls of men shouting to find him; barking dogs joined them, on the sniff for their aggressor. The badly bleeding boy could barely breathe as he shambled forward into the darkness of the seemingly abandoned clinic. He had narrowly managed to avoid getting caught and killed by the chasing officials and Healing Church forces before making it to Central Yharnam.
Things are quickly taking a dive, he thought to himself in growing despair.
Dragging himself across the ground he scanned his wavy, dream-like eyesight around himself; beds containing groaning victims of hunts lay dotted around him.
This was a clinic.
Good, he thought.
I'm on the right track.
"Almost... there...," the young man managed to murmur out effortfully, using the beds he passed as support for his failing limbs. "Just... need... blood..."
Even in speaking however, the youth's strength soon failed him; he coughed out the very expression he had expressed before soon dropping to the ground just under a bed. His eyes scrunched shut in pain, the wooden floor stained with crimson-blood. Stewart never even heard the excruciating sound of a wheelchair approach him, his attention far too focused on the immeasurable pain he felt.
"What's this...?" The voice atop the wheelchair spoke; Stewart gasped a second time and his eyes widened in response before soon snapping upwards.
He saw only weathered old shoes staring back at him and youth's eyes widened in surprise.
Who-?
"Ah... a lost lamb wanderth in...," the voice spoke again; an old man's seemingly. "Doctor! Another one for you!"
The chair-bound man's words echoed deep into the youth's mind, falling unconscious from his grievous wounds.
"Why are we keeping him alive...?"
"Because he's young."
"But he could be the..."
"I don't care what we think he could be."
Stewart groaned; the voices echoed and he could not seem to see the owners much less anything else.
"I think he's awake..."
"Then it's time we greeted him... hm Iosefka...?"
Stewart gasped as he felt around his body; soft quilted covers greeted the touch of his fingertips and he quickly made the assertation that he was bed-ridden.
Hold on, he thought.
What about my pursuers?
"Don't worry boy... don't struggle," the familiar old voice floated over to him; the sound of his wheelchair whirring made the youth realise he was approaching him. "Here..."
As if on reaction he felt the nameless old man pull apart the soft bandages resting across his once injured eyes. His vision, now revealed completely, drank in the sight of the recovery room he now rested in. His eyes caught a frowning young woman staring back at him suspiciously from half-way across the room. Dressed in a smock covering her plain white dress, her long brown hair was kept in a neat ponytail, a small portion of it covering her left eye. Blood covered her surgeon's smock, seemingly suggesting to her position as doctor.
Stewart's own suspicions grew and he stared back at the nameless doctor before him, his thoughts racing.
Did they sell me out?
"Now... if you'd tell us your name young sir... that'd be much appreciated." The elderly, bearded man spoke, still confined to his wheelchair. He smiled on over at the youth invitingly and raised up his left hand, palm outstretched as if to encourage the boy on. Stewart's eyes darted from between the listening and watching pair before he finally deigned to open his mouth.
"Stewart."
"And your last name...?"
Silence.
Though the awkwardness weighted their conversation down, Stewart eventually relented but not without grit-toothed regret.
"Forbes." He finally spoke out in his refined Yharnam accent.
"I don't trust him," the young woman advised aloud as she stood across from the watching youth; Stewart's eyes snapped over to glare back at the supposed doctor before him. "The Healing Church are looking for a man fitting his description."
"Come now, he's but a young lad," the minister shot over his shoulder in his grin before he soon turned his grin on the youth resting before him. He nodded his shaggy haired and bearded head upwards at the young man. "How old are you son?"
"Seventeen." He honestly stated out for the third time, turning his eyes away from the watching pair.
"Ah, there, you see?" The nameless minister smiled as he 'rounded on the folded armed doctor across from them. "He can't possibly be the one they're looking for."
"I still don't like this."
With that final statement, the young woman turned on her heel, her shoes clicking noisily against the hardwood of the floors they rested on. A door shut loudly behind her, leaving the pair of men alone. Stewart watched her leave with a narrow-eyed frown of his own before soon turning back to face his new company.
"Now that we're alone...," the minister smiled, almost suspiciously; Stewart's suggestive scowl stayed true to his expression as he watched him wheel forward slowly. "You are he are you not?" He asked, raising a curious eyebrow upward as he did so. Stewart's eyes narrowed warningly, as if to dissuade him from continuing but the man would not stop. "The Byrgenwerth Butcher...?"
Stewart opted not to admit to anything; he kept his mouth welded shut. The minister chuckled, almost as if in knowing.
"Good...," he murmured out as he whirred forward in a light nod. "So... you must be a strong boy... with some brains to match..."
Again, the youth opted to remain silent; he stared back in his mute-eyed glare.
"Have you ever had training to become a hunter by any chance...?"
A part of Stewart's scowling face twitched in response; the minister smirked knowingly.
"Just as the law enforcement suggest...," the talkative old man chuckled in a nod. "Good... now...," he began once more before finally making the last approach toward the youth. He placed down a silvery piece of parchment, aged from time and weathered from use. It glowed a strange silvery moonlight and as Stewart stared down at it, his eyes widened for the first time in actual surprise.
He knew what this was.
"You know, don't you...?" The minister questioned him, raising an amused eyebrow. "Yes...," he chuckled. "We have need of you, young Stewart..."
Stewart's eyes slowly flitted back up to his new seeming ally and his scowl slowly slipped into a suggestive smirk as if to match his new comrade. The pair stared at one another and, as the minister handed him a quill pen, a kind of silent dialogue between them.
Aren't I lucky, Stewart thought to himself.
He resisted the urge to laugh in the minister's face and grinned on down at the parchment before slowly writing his name down in block capitals.
STEWART FORBES
"Now... before we begin the transfusion... there may be a memory impairment; just a friendly warning." The old man warned in his smile. Stewart's grin was soon lost to him and he frowned in surprise.
Oh no, he thought.
"It's nothing serious... but all those attached to the dream undergo this unfortunately."
"Give me that quill pen!"
His sudden exclamation and jump to life startled the elderly minister; he pulled his body back into his wheelchair and stared back at the youth. Finally however he passed it over to him and the youth leaned to his far-right as if to reach something. Unable to catch it however he turned his angry-eyed glare on the old man next to him.
"Don't just sit there you old fool!" He berated him angrily. "Pass me that paper!"
The elderly man turned to eye the battered old parchment lying on the empty chair next to them both; he wheeled over to his left and obeyed the youth out of sheer morbid curiosity before passing it over. Wasting no more time, Stewart used the small table to his right as a workstation and feverishly wrote down words. The silent blood minister leaned over to watch.
SEEK PALEBLOOD TO TRANSCEND THE HUNT.
"Oh, yes... Paleblood..." The minister chuckled lowly as he leaned back into his wheelchair, raising a curious eyebrow upward. "How do you know that word I wonder...?"
Opting instead to remain silent on the matter, Stewart merely shot the older and more experienced man a low smirk before soon handing back the paper and quill pen. The nameless minister took them both slowly and passed them away; the quill back into his inventory and the paper to its original position.
"Now... now I'm ready," Stewart shot over in a narrow-eyed smirk. "Give to me... a night of dreaming."
The minister merely chuckled lowly before reaching for the syringe he seemed to lay on a table next to him.
"It may be a while before you wake back up again...," the old man chuckled. "Stewart Forbes."
–
2
Re-opening his eyes forward, the Butcher could only curl his light frown into a slow, satisfied smirk.
I may have deviated a little from my initial route and been untrue to myself when I was ill...
… but here I stand, alive and well.
The youth swung his Tonitrus sharply to his right to rid it of the blood that had gathered on it from his attacks earlier. His smirk never left him, even as he sauntered forward into the clearing, dotted only by fog, trees, a small inclination spiralling downwards and a lamp leading back to the Hunter's Dream. The Butcher chuckled lowly as he entered forbidden and familiar territory; his chuckle soon elevated into maniacal laughter, echoing loudly throughout the abandoned city of men.
I have returned to my home-town, he thought.
Welcome to Byrgenwerth.
Been near unable to believe his returned memories, the youth continued on, his smirk still on his face. Merely strolling through the decrepit and abandoned city, the Butcher turned to watch the fog-curled streets of his familiar home.
"Ah, Byrgenwerth...," he murmured out fondly as he stepped down the small hill and onto the pavement. "Going down memory lane here... is a treat indeed," the young man smiled gratefully as he sauntered forwards, his eyes scanning the large familiar building to his right. "To be able to walk these streets once again, a free man with nothing to hide..." He murmured onwards in his smile, growing into a suggestive smirk.
It is truly the blessing of the presence, he thought to himself.
"Or should I call you... 'god'?"
As he had half-expected the place was barren of any visitors beside himself and a few fallen creatures that he easily disposed of. Once he reached the open double-doors of the college building he once entered numerous times in the past however, the youth smiled as he stepped through.
"I wonder... are you still here... sensei Willem?" The Butcher smiled out as he raised his eyes upward to the darkened corridors resting above him. To his left lay an unopened chest and to his front lay a winding staircase that led upwards.
As if to answer his own questions however he pressed onwards and stepped slowly across the steps leading upward. The youth double-took however and halted his progress almost as immediately as when he noticed a second presence walking similarly slowly towards him. His smile soon faltered and he frowned forward.
A woman?
Though the place was dark and much fog had curled around them he was able to deduce an official white dress-like uniform attached to her body.
"Ah... part of the Choir I see...," he murmured forwards in light greeting. If she heard him she didn't let him know; the woman merely continued to march gradually toward him, Threaded Cane held back seemingly to attack with; the Butcher's eyes spied it and darted down and back up at her in response. "What, no pithy comeback?" He called over this time in another light smile. "No... chit-chat?" He pressed on, attempting to lower her guard with taunts. As before, she budged not. "That's the problem with you Choir hunters you see; you have no sense of-"
SLASH
The Butcher back-flipped at the drop of a hat; the woman's Threaded Cane expanded and hacked noisily at the steps he once stood on. Landing gracefully on the banister of the staircase, the Byrgenwerth Butcher kept the confident smirk on his face as he watched.
"Temper, temper...," he continued to goad her, smiling over. "Come... this way..." The youth smiled as he drew the woman over with a pull of his free left index finger.
He soon flipped a second time to avoid her inevitable advance, landing gracefully in a light grunt. The Butcher turned his eye over to the slow walking Choir Hunter; her shoes clicking agonisingly noisily and slowly against the hardwood of the staircase she walked down. When she about-turned to finally face him he couldn't help but smirk on back at her as he reached for his ever faithful Tonitrus. Spinning it 'round his right hand he watched the woman's hidden face behind her white hat and darkened mask.
"So... if you're blocking the way to what's up there...," the Butcher murmured out as he advanced on with the similarly slow sauntering Choir Hunter. "Then what's up there must be precious indeed!" He finished as he widened his eyes in a sudden, toothy-smirked hiss. The Choir Hunter slashed at the air where he once stood and, as she seemingly expected, he had escaped her Threaded Cane's range.
He left behind a mad smirking after-image and her eyes darted around in search for him; her eyes soon widened however and she barely avoid the laughing Butcher's re-appeared and buffed Tonitrus, swinging across at the air where her face once was. The woman bent her body in a deft acrobatic spin to avoid the younger warrior's maddened swipe, seemingly scowling over at him as she spun. Offering her no time for repose however, the Byrgenwerth Butcher merely grinned lowly as he quickstepped very hastily, his movement like liquid itself. She shot her eyes in her right direction and they narrowed, recognising his tactics.
Yes, the Butcher thought as he licked at his lips hungrily.
I'm boxing you in.
That thought merely motivated him on and the youth's grin soon elevated into a loud chuckle; he pressed forward and, as expected, cornered the Choir Hunter. With a growingly maddened laugh and even almost psychotic twist of his face he re-appeared in her frontal view, smirking toothily and dementedly.
"Surprise!" The serial killer laughed.
The Choir Hunter wasted no time in her counter-attack; she merely leaned forward and sunk her left knee into his stomach. The Butcher's eyes widened, taken aback by her sudden call to action; he was sent staggering a single step back, offering her just enough room to follow up her strike. The seemingly experienced fighter finished her combo with a single spinning roundhouse kick, sending him spiralling across the air.
Quickly finding himself however, the Butcher grunted as he caught the ground with his remaining free left hand, side-flipping acrobatically in swift recovery. He couldn't help but chuckle however even as he did so.
I'm playing with my food, he thought to himself.
Can't be too confident now.
As if to further emphasise his silent ruminations the surprisingly fast Choir Hunter suddenly shifted to his undefended rear and, as she did, the Butcher's eyes widened. His eyes snapped to his far-right before suddenly narrowing as he spun around to face her in an effort-filled twisting slash attack.
CLINK
The Byrgenwerth Butcher could only gasp as he was sent a surprising distance back from his earlier counter-attack; his attack traded with the woman's and, in spite of it being a seemingly weaker weapon, the pair managed to cancel each other out.
Was it reinforced with Blood Gems?
Clever girl, he thought to himself.
"You're more resourceful than I imagined!" The Butcher called on over in his grin as he pulled himself up from his kneeling position. She watched him as silently as ever before reaching into her dress-like garb. "Especially for one of Choir." He half-insulted with a chuckling and knowing narrow of his eyes forward. His grin and similarly derisive chortle were soon both lost to him however when he watched her reach back to the ceiling with both arms.
I know what that is, he thought.
Book it!
With that thought driving him on the Butcher turned and ran toward the staircase, eyes widened; he gasped as he leapt forward behind the staircase just in time to avoid a stray strand of energy.
She's using 'a Call Beyond'?
How far have these hunters come?!
As if to act on her momentum, the narrow-eyed Choir Hunter re-appeared directly to his undefended right and, widening his eyes, the Butcher snapped his head in her direction as he lay his back across the hardwood of the staircase he hid behind. Time slowed down for the pair and he panicked as another headache began to gnaw at his mind; he leapt up and went for a telegraphed jump attack. The woman readied her left arm and shot her open sleeve and palm forward.
The Butcher couldn't even gasp, horror filling his body as he recognised the counter-attack.
No!
Numerous tentacles of Arcane strength suddenly shot out from her extended left arm and successfully struck the grunting Butcher, sending him down to his knees. He gasped as he watched her quickstep in to take him for an expected visceral attack.
SQUELCH
The youth roared out in pain as he was suddenly struck by her free right palm; she grunted for the first time in effort as she sent the youth spinning through the air painfully. The Byrgenwerth Butcher scrunched his eyes shut, his blood sailing on after him; in spite of his pounding migraine and his fresh injury however he widened his eyes and spun his body around mid-fly. Landing on the hard wall behind him he immediately stuck a blood vial into his lower leg before widening his eyes; in a mix of anger and growing impatience, the youth impetuously but powerfully vaulted himself off of the wall with a deft push of his body.
He shot towards the unprepared hunter with incredible speed.
Still recovering from her earlier visceral attack, her eyes widened; she could do very little except bend her body backwards in an attempt to evade the screaming young man's counter-attack
As he sailed across the air, the Butcher shot his crackling Tonitrus horizontally before aiming his Hunter's Pistol downward. Time slowed down for the pair and, as she watched him fly slowly across her, her eyes widened in alarm when she saw he targeted her leg.
BANG
The inevitable gunshot hit and she yelled in sudden pain as she buckled under the pressure, falling to her rear. The Butcher grunted as he rolled forwards in his landing, soon about-turning to blitz back the way he came; his eyes stayed widened in his bloody-eyed scowl and, this time, he shot his electric mace across his face, visibly buffing it with further lightning.
"Now you're finished!" The angry youth yelled out confidently and hatefully; he brought his Tonitrus skyward before swiftly narrowing his eyes down at her helpless form. Soon however he widened them one final time the blue electricity lighting up his scowling face. "Time to die!"
CLANG
His Tonitrus inevitably countered with the grunting woman's Threaded Cane, held diagonally and transformed to a blade-state.
"Rgh...!" The Butcher grunted out in half-effort, half-rage. His eyes soon narrowed hatefully down at the similarly tooth-grit scowling Choir Hunter below him. "Why... won't... you...," he murmured out, the sparks of his lightning and her steel flaring between them both. "Just PERISH?!"
RIP-SQUELCH
Along with his effort-filled roar, the young dreaming hunter finally broke his weapon through his hated enemy's and, as he did, he pierced her white dress with surprising strength. The mace he held easily penetrated the clothes she wore and the blood she coughed out silenced any other words she may have spoken otherwise. The Butcher finally allowed himself to gasp, wrenching his Tonitrus back out from her flesh; he re-straightened his standing position and scowled down at her disappearing body as he used his left arm to wipe at the blood trickling down his chin.
"Fucking Choir...," the youth muttered out crudely and hatefully, his eyes narrowed down at her failing form. Soon she disappeared completely and the young man turned his head-pounding eyes back up to the staircase she once guarded. "Damn headaches," he growled out as he walked forward, using his free left palm to grasp at the left side of his head. "When will you leave me?"
–
3
The Byrgenwerth Butcher put on a hard and firm frown as he appraised the impressive looking bookcase overlooking the lounging area that his previous opponent seemingly guarded. Pulling a strangely marked tome out from inside he narrowed his eyes down at it before opening it, only to find it bookmarked and underlined on a specific paragraph.
When the red moon hangs low, the line between men and beast is blurred. And when the Great Ones descend, a womb will be blessed with child.
"Hmph..." The Butcher merely grunted out as he scowled on down at the words. His eyes soon caught another underlined paragraph however and they narrowed once more down at it.
The spider hides all manner of rituals, certain to reveal nothing, for true enlightenment need not be shared.
A corner of his lip upturned into a smirk as he read that paragraph before he soon slammed the book shut with his right hand. He reached forward and placed it back into its proper place before soon about-turning and narrowing his eyes back at the Lunarium door.
If I am correct in my hypothesis, the Butcher thought.
"Then sensei Willem and his creation will be lurking behind there."
His thoughts spurred him on and, as he stuck the key he found earlier into the door before him, he narrowed his eyes as he pushed it apart.
Walking through, the youth frowned as he scanned his eyes across the area, only to find it as a lush lookout. The bright silvery moonlight lit up the area he stepped down into and, as his boots touched the firm concrete, the Butcher turned his eyes to his right, narrowed and all.
Sure enough there he sat in the rocking chair he remembered.
Master Provost Willem of the Byrgenwerth Lecture College.
The Butcher put on a low smile as he approached the older man. Much like the woman afore him he wore something across his eyes, like a mask, as if to guard his vision from something.
Dressed in the same regal white and blue robes he wore as head of the lecture college, he rocked away in his chair, as if completely unaware of the youth's presence.
"Sensei Willem...," the Butcher began as he smiled over at the older man. "Long time no see."
"Ah..." The previous building's headmaster managed to breathe out; he rocked and leaned forwards slowly in his chair, reaching the decorative staff he held in his hand ahead of himself. The Butcher traced his movement only to find him pointing directly toward the end of the lookout.
"So... your little creation lies over yonder, hm?" The Butcher murmured out as he turned his new thoughtful frown over to the moonlit lookout.
"R-Rom..."
The serial killer, his interest and curiosity piqued, immediately snapped his eyes back to face the man next to him.
"What did you just say?" He pressed him, eyes narrowed.
Rom?
The Butcher turned his eyes back to the lookout, narrowing.
I know that name, he thought.
Wasn't there a woman working at the college by that name?
"It would seem you have grown desperate indeed, sensei Willem...," the Butcher murmured out mid-thought process. "I had heard you had managed to halt the progress made by the School of Mensis...," he continued on as he stared on out at the moonlit landscape before him. Soon however he turned his newly gained smirk on the gasping old man next to him. "But to sacrifice a young woman in your employ to do it...?"
"Ah..." Willem murmured out, as if in response somehow.
"You truly are devious, sensei Willem...," he chuckled on, his body leaning to the side. "You are the only one I could not successfully fool...," the youth admitted in his confident smirk, shaking his head as if for emphatic effect. "You and that other rat of sensei Gehrman's." The youth muttered, this time in obvious distaste; a second young woman entered his thoughts and memories.
The pair shared a comfortable silence together as the Butcher quietly swivelled his head and his eyes to narrow at the lookout before him.
"You have achieved much in my absence... sensei Willem...," the Butcher complimented in his hard frown before soon turning back to face him once more. "Leave the rest to me," he hissed out this time in his narrow-eyed frown. "Eyes may be a stepping stone... but they are not the answer," he added on before turning back one final time to grin at the moonlit lookout. "Not for true evolution."
Even as he landed, the Butcher couldn't help but put on a light smile, raising his head to face forwards once more. He re-opened his eyes and found himself in a dream-like landscape.
"Moonside Lake... isn't it...?" He murmured as he turned his eyes across the bright background before him, smiling lightly.
Though his head pounded on he soldiered through the pain.
He opted not to ask himself of why they were still persisting.
Perhaps they would leave when he stopped focusing on them.
I just hope they don't interfere with my work, he thought to himself.
His eyes double-took when he caught the sight of a giant cylindrical spider crawling across the ground and his frown soon upturned slowly into a confident smirk. The Byrgenwerth Butcher kept the smirk warm on his face as he marched on forward, holding his Tonitrus back, ready to be used against his new and eventual opponent.
"It is time," he called over toward the heedless arachnid. His smirk was soon lost to him in favour of a hardened scowl. "The Moon Presence has sent me Rom...," the youth's voice echoed across the dreamscape around them. "Even as these blasted headaches persist, I will blanket Yharnam in further disarray and even further misery!" The young man claimed boldly, his eyes widening in his low speech.
His voice echoed loudly across the invisible walls of the area they both stood in before he re-opened his mouth to match his quietened tone of his voice and his slitting eyelids.
"For only through the Byrgenwerth Butcher...," he began again in his heated glare. "Can Yharnam truly be redeemed..."