Chapter 11: Resurrection; Hope Reborn

Third Descent of the Blood Moon Arc

Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodborne, this is just a Fanfiction.

Featured Music: "Hunter's Dream" - Bloodborne OST. Chapter Briefing.

"Rom – The Vacuous Spider" - Bloodborne OST. Scene 1 (First Half) Scene 2 (First Half).

"The Reluctant Heroes (Instrumental)"; Stewart's Theme – Attack on Titan OST. Scene 2 (Second Half).

"Sacred Moon" - Kingdom Hearts II OST. Scene 3 (First & Second Halves).


In his endeavour across Yharnam, the Byrgenwerth Butcher has done many things; he has evaded complete and total obliteration from the pursuing forces of the Healing Church and police officials, he has successfully managed to predict much of the workings and going ons of Yharnam and, finally, in spite of his many setbacks he has managed to put himself in the position of dreaming hunter of Yharnam.

Though he did not achieve all this alone he works alone, like a wolf in the cover of night, as a serial killer should.

As his memory recovers, he continues his course as the great Gehrman's next apprentice; the Butcher presses on to his old home-town of Byrgenwerth and reunites with an old face.

Master Provost Willem of the Byrgenwerth Lecture College.

Having learned of his creation and his sets sight on it, the Butcher opts to follow the trail and arrives at Moonside Lake.

Rom, the Vacuous Spider awaits the tone of his Tonitrus...


Scene 1

The Butcher grunted, his scowl twitching from the pounding migraine he endured as he quickstepped to his left to avoid the small spiders' strikes.

There's too many of them, he thought to himself.

There must be some way I can separate them, he continued on in his mind.

His eyes soon caught the dematerialising form of the larger spider; his main victim and he growled out angrily as it did.

"Tch!" The youth managed out before angrily smashing his Tonitrus across one of the poor smaller spiders attempting to crawl towards him. His eyes narrowed when he quickly noted the damage he seemed to be doing when attacking their sides as opposed to their heads.

Strange.

Most creatures like these have a weakness in the head, not around it.

Seemed the opposite for these things.

With that thought driving him on, the Byrgenwerth Butcher widened his eyes as he bent his body backward; the sky began to turn ominously dark and he knew what was coming.

An Arcane attack.

Numerous ice-like stalactites came crashing down from the heavens above and he sprinted in a zig-zag formation to successfully evade all the meteors. With a gasp he rolled forward and narrowly avoided another small spider's headbutt attack.

Fucking insects, he thought to himself angrily.

He grunted as he issued the small spider a sweeping swing of his electric mace before swiftly swivelling around to face the staring Rom.

"Don't move...," he growled out in half-impatience, marching quickly towards the ancient arachnid. He buffed the lightning mace he carried, the sky-blue electricity lighting up his horribly scowling long-haired face. "Rom." The youth rumbled on out hatefully; he easily walked around to its undefended left side and widened his eyes as he swung his workshop weapon across the spider's body.

A strange kind of blood flew from it but it did not dissuade him in the least; he continued to swing away madly and roared with effort as he did so. When it finally spun around in dematerialisation however he growled and huffed with the effort, snapping his eyes around in search for the spider.

"No... you won't... use me for this!"

The Butcher gasped however as a fresh shimmer of pain shot through his head, forcing him down on his knees. He used his free left arm to grasp at his hat-wearing head, scrunching his eyes shut as he grunted in pain.

That voice, he thought.

So familiar.

It can't be?

"Get out of my body!"

The Butcher gasped a second time, falling down to his all fours, eyes widening this time. Sweat dropped down his forehead and he stared on down at the milky ground beneath him in a terrifying mixture of shock and horror.

This was impossible.

"Now!"

A sudden flash of incredible pain went with the words he listened to from his sub-conscious and he dropped his crackling Tonitrus to the ground with a noisy clang before grasping both sides of his head and cannoning his face skywards.

The youth screamed for all he was worth.


The Butcher gasped awake, his eyes widening.

Where am I, he thought.

His vision slowly unblurred and he managed to see, only to find himself caught in some kind of prison. His eyes narrowed forward at the iron bars before him and his frown slowly turned into a low scowl as he ran his left hand across one of the bars.

"What in the name of-?"

"You."

The Butcher blinked and snapped his eyes upward.

A reflection of himself stared back at him.

His body leant to the side in a hard-eyed stare, the youth merely glared back at him. He wore all the same gear he did; the Butcher could barely believe what he was watching.

"W-What's...?" He asked as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "What the hell is happening?"

"We're inside our mind." His reflection merely replied. The Butcher narrowed his eyes at the young man's voice and his accent.

It was common, foreign.

It was the only thing different between them.

"Our...?" The Butcher parroted, half-side of his face scrunching in a hateful, quizzical scowl. "What the hell are you-?"

"Like me or not Butcher," the reflection spoke over confidently, his own eyes narrowing forward. "I'm here to stay."

His impatience reached a plateau and the Butcher's growl soon escalated into an angered yell; he slammed the iron bars of his cage and scowled hatefully at the youth. "Who the fuck are you?!" He demanded.

"I'm you, Butcher," the reflection began with an introduction, eyes narrowing. "I'm Stewart Forbes."

"Wha-? But-?!" The Butcher could only manage out in a shocked stammer, shaking his head profusely as if to rid himself of the interruption. Soon however, his eyes slowly widened and his scowl gave way to realisation; a frown re-appeared on his face. "You...," he growled as he lowered his hands from the bars of his cell. "You were those fucking headaches..."

"Call me what you want," the newly re-introduced Stewart spoke over to him in a confident narrow of his eyes. "You might live inside me Butcher... but so do I."

The Byrgenwerth Butcher could only watch as the leaning, narrow-eyed reflection of himself glared back at him; his body began to dematerialise from the legs first and, as it finally took the rest of his glaring face, the Butcher's hateful scowl never left him.

2

Stewart's eyes widened; coming to a full waking position, the young man quickly realised his bad timing. He grasped the crackling Tonitrus laying at his feet on his right and stood up on his feet, searching for his new opponent.

Just as the Butcher had been doing before him.

He double-took when he found it lounging with its many small spider companions; Stewart's eyes narrowed and he nodded forward at the goal before him. The youth sped ahead and ducked his dome under the inevitable crashing Arcane meteors that Rom sent after him.

Time to finish the job he started, the young hunter thought to himself.

Even as he quickstepped forward past the numerous smaller spiders' strike attacks, he spun around as he did so in a sweeping slice; the electricity from his mace stunned the squeaking spiders and forced them from his position, allowing him further room.

With extra effort, Stewart made up for lost time by quickstepping forward and re-buffing the Tonitrus with lightning; he yelled with effort as he swung the mace across the spider's body. In a few lightning-coated strokes, the humongous arachnid eventually gave one final screech of pain, its body reaching up as if to the sky in its sheer agony. His eyes widened Stewart stared up at it and, before as he had half-expected, blood from it came pouring down from above coating him in it completely.

The smaller spiders around him soon gave out similar screeching and squeaking yells of pain as they all turned on their backs; signs of their defeat.

With a small smile growing on his face, Stewart's thoughts drove him on.

"Prey Slaughtered."


"The Byrgenwerth Butcher I may have been in my youth...," Stewart murmured forward as he slowly pulled himself up from his knelt position on the milky ground beneath him. "And he may still live in me...," the dreaming hunter continued on, his head held lowly. "But so do I."

He swiftly buffed the Tonitrus next to him; the bright blue lightning lit up his face and he snapped his head up amidst the many drips and droplets of blood that fell from the sky, pointing his crackling weapon upward with him.

"And I am Stewart Forbes!" He exclaimed, his voice echoing across the battlefield he once fought on. "Upon the fallen blood of Rom, the Vacuous Spider and my own... I make this pledge," Stewart began lowly as he narrowed his eyes forward, almost as if talking to the Butcher himself. "I will use its power of Blood Echoes to help my friends at Oedon Chapel and to do the one thing I set out to do in the first place when I woke up in doctor Iosefka's clinic."

His words echoed across the dream-like landscape before he re-widened his eyes and continued on.

"I alone will end Yharnam's ceaseless nightmare!" He exclaimed in full confidence, a hardened frown on his usually soft expression. "I will shoulder the weight of Yharnam's heavy burden, by myself! I will pierce my hopeful light through the thick, sombre clouds of darkness enveloping Yharnam!" Stewart declared passionately as he shot his crackling Tonitrus skyward, turning his eyes up with it.

He allowed himself to settle down soon however and sighed as he brought his quietened mace down with him, using his free left hand to rest on his chest. His eyes shut as he re-opened his mouth to speak, a softer tone of voice to his words.

"If my heart wasn't already hardened enough before my memory came back... it is now," he murmured out before soon re-opening his eyes in his frown before re-rising his face to match. "Butcher... you've managed to deceive and manipulate most of the people living in this city today... but I see you," he spoke as he stared forward; he could almost imagine the hateful reflection of himself staring back at him. "You and I are two sides of the same coin; I'm hardly one of reverence or even innocence... but I'm trying Butcher," he admitted as he frowned on softly forward. "If what I do helps this city and its people even by the smallest... then that's what I'll do," the youth continued on as he nodded on in his speech. "I was a bad person... I think it's time I changed that."

3

Wrenching himself free of his words, the newly re-appeared youth turned his frown on the bright landscape of Moonside Lake. Now standing suspiciously before him, a strange shaped woman in a bright white dress lay ahead of him; Stewart's thoughtful eyes narrowed past the long strands of his brown hair and his large hat.

Whoever that was, he thought, she wasn't human.

His thoughts were seemingly confirmed when he spied her strangely translucent and pale skin, punctuated boldly with blood across her dress at the front.

It looked like...

"A wedding dress...?" Stewart thought to himself aloud as he watched her, his ruminations racing to catch up with the events.

Who was she?

A baby's pained howl echoed throughout Moonside Lake and the youth winced when he traced the strange woman's eyesight.

Where was that coming from?

His silent questions were soon answered when he turned to his right only to find a huge blood-red sphere descend down upon him.

"What the-?" He could only breathe out, eyes widened; he took a step back as the sounds of the baby's crying began to amplify and worsen. It echoed loudly within his mind and he grunted, grabbing both sides of his head.

It did little to block the scathing sound from his ears however.

He opened his mouth in his scrunch-eyed shut scowl to scream alongside the deafening sound of the baby's howling.

But his voice was left to drown.


Ritual secret broken. Seek the nightmare newborn.

Stewart's eyes widened and he gasped, as if awaking from a terrible hallucination. When his vision returned to him he found himself in the very same small church he was sent to by Patches the Spider earlier in his adventure.

I must be in the Cathedral Ward, he thought to himself.

His eyes double-took the humongous form of the huge spider-like creature hanging on the wall before him. A veritable chill of fear ran up his spine when he saw it and he gulped down a load of saliva.

I can see it now he ruminated to himself.

But why...?

When he looked down he found himself on the strange iron pan he once passed so zealously, covered by lots of small candles in a seeming ritual.

What is happening?

"I need answers...," the youth murmured out when he narrowed his eyes forward; the two large steel doors that were previously bound and locked were now thrust open for him to engage with. He turned on his heel and left for another lamp to take him back to the Hunter's Dream. "I'll be back." The youth threw over his shoulder, disappearing into the night.

4

Stewart frowned as he stepped through the fog-ridden corridors of Byrgenwerth's Lecture Hall; having been here before he had previously theorised that he had hadn't received all the answers he was after.

And the locked Byrgenwerth Butcher would no doubt offer him none in the state he was in.

The well-meaning youth's firm frown twitched lightly as he experienced a sharp dose of a headache; he grunted in the light pain.

No doubt the Butcher knocking at his iron bars, he thought.

Just like he did to regain control.

I have to get answers as quickly as possible before the next time he takes control, he thought on as he marched through the darkened corridors.

Now.

Before he even noticed, Stewart found himself sauntering on the second floor of the abandoned college building. He pressed on, looking for any kind of open doorway, any kind of standout note. As if to finally answer his silent prayers however, he widened his eyes when he entered one of the many small hallways before him. Stepping through with narrowed eyes he soon found himself in one of the many experimentation rooms; he took out his lit Hunter's Torch and scanned the area.

He felt a presence in here.

"Who's there?!"

A voice now; Stewart's eyes widened.

Wasn't this place abandoned?

So who was that?

"Answer me!"

"U-Um, m-my name is Stewart!" The youth called on back, his eyes darting around in search for the man's refined Yharnam accent. "Wasn't this place abandoned?"

His words echoed across the fog-curled and cobweb infested walls of the experimentation room and Stewart found himself suddenly exposed.

What if this person were a killer?

As if to finally answer his silent worries however, an ebony dressed figure stepped into the light of his torch; a man. Dressed in the regal black and white of the student and lecturer body of the Byrgenwerth College he truly suit the background of the area. The nameless black haired man wore a uniform to match the Lecture Hall they both stood in and a simple black mortarboard atop his head. He carried numerous books under his arms and he frowned at the youth suspiciously.

He seemed all right...

"Yes...," the nameless man murmured out as he watched the young dreaming hunter thoughtfully. "It is abandoned...," he claimed before sighing as he briefly shut his eyes; he leaned in and frowned firmly as he extended his left hand forward. "Much like myself; my name is Armand, the abandoned."

"Armand...," Stewart murmured out attentively, nodding. "Stewart," he re-introduced in his attempt at a polite smile, nodding once more as he shook the man's hand. The newly established Armand merely frowned as he about turned and walked forward; the younger man followed him in a smile. "You said... 'abandoned'," the youth spoke up once more as he frowned forward however, raising a curious eyebrow as they approached a table. "What did you mean by that?"

"As the name implies... I suppose," Armand could only smile over his shoulder as he spoke; Stewart raised a curious eyebrow upward, indicating his curiosity. "When the Byrgenwerth Lecture Hall was taken adrift into the nightmare... I was brought with it."

Adrift into the nightmare?

Stewart's mind raced at the possibilities and, suddenly, answers he could never have found on his own managed to connect the dots for him. His eyes widened and he grasped the table before them, positively shocked.

"Of course!" He exclaimed, his passion running high. "So this place... it was ripped from Yharnam?" He asked his new companion and seeming ally, swivelling his arch-eyed eyebrow over to frown at him. Armand merely nodded in his own frown, still gripping his books.

"Stewart...," Armand began in his low frown, briefly shutting his eyes as he placed his books on the table before them. "I have many things to reveal to you but first...," he continued on before re-turning to open his eyes once more, facing the quizzical youth. "You will tell me of Yharnam."


"Ah... I see," the disappointed scholar frowned out as he turned his eyes back down to the hardwood oak table before them. The two had grabbed small chairs and shared a precious bottle of alcohol together in some bonding form. Stewart winced as he turned his long-haired head back to frown at the table similarly, Armand's chagrin radiating off of him. "So... Yharnam truly is finished," he added as he turned his half-closed eyes to his lower left in rumination. Stewart's own eyebrows lifted as he listened. "I should have known... I could do nothing to prevent-"

"No."

Armand blinked, his words interrupted; he swivelled in his small chair, eyes cloudy. Stewart stared back at him confidently, his hat-wearing head leaning to the side.

"I'm still here," the young hunter reminded the man. "Whatever the School of Mensis and the Choir are planning I'll stop 'em both."

"By yourself?" Armand hissed out as he leant forward, his eyes narrowing firmly. "You may be attached to the Hunter's Dream and to the Moon Presence but you're only one man Stewart!" He whispered out as if the pair were being listened to somehow in spite of the abandoned building.

"I don't care," the youth brazenly shot back, his own eyes narrowing in his words. "I've already saved five people in the Cathedral Ward," Stewart claimed; his mind returning to the rescued women and men he'd interacted with. "Besides... you said it yourself didn't you?" He reminded the older man, smiling at his shaggy black-haired head. Armand stared at him wordlessly, eyes narrowing in thought. "You believe in the prophecy... don't you?"

Armand's eyebrows lifted in recognition before, slowly dropping back down; his brow gradually furrowed to suit his new skeptical look. "Stewart I've been trapped here for a long time," the older man admitted in a shake of his head. "I could be willing to believe anything."

"I think you're just scared," Stewart replied softly, his own expression suiting the rest of his friendly tone. "I don't know about any prophecy of the old blood; the Butcher knows all about that stuff, but...," the youth continued in briefly, watching the table before him as if to ponder before he soon re-focused his eyes on his speaking partner. "But I know what I'm gonna do," he began once more, his tone harder to match his hard-eyed narrow. "All I want to do is make things better."

Armand could only stare at his younger companion in shock and surprise; he watched him for a good few seconds and Stewart managed a blink in response.

Is there something on my face, he thought.

"You are definitely a strange one," the shaggy black-haired man could only laugh as he shook his head briefly in his strange humour; Stewart raised a curious eyebrow upward. "Hrm... I have never done this for anyone else... but... no-one else has made it this far," the scholar claimed, this time in a hardened frown; Stewart's eyes narrowed quietly as he listened intently. Armand reached for his books and opened a specific one, pushing it over to the youth. "Read this." He requested, tapping a specific part of the now open page.

Stewart's eyes narrowed and he leaned over in his chair, reaching closer to read the underlined paragraph he seemingly intended.

The nameless moon presence beckoned by Laurence and his associates. Paleblood.

Stewart's eyes widened in response.

There was those names again – 'Laurence' and 'Paleblood'.

He turned in his chair to frown back at the similar faced Armand, the older man's left elbow resting across the table. He nodded gravely.

"There's something inside that dream of yours, commanding it; controlling it," he gave claim to in reply. "Something living inside that moon." The scholar spoke ominously. A chill ran up Stewart's spine as he listened; he attempted to find the words with which to respond.

"B-But why would the Healing Church's first vicar do such a thing? Wouldn't it just make Yharnam worse?"

"I believe Laurence was cornered at some point in time," Armand theorised in his hard-eyed frown. Stewart's own eyes widened as he listened, new information coming to light. "Something must have forced his hand, to turn to a nameless Great One."

A flash suddenly went off in Stewart's head; his eyes widened when a memory abruptly came to light.

The red moon hangs low, and beasts rule the streets. Are we left no other choice, than to burn it all to cinders?

Old Yharnam, he thought.

This makes complete sense.

"I'm not sure what it could have been...," Armand murmured out as he turned his eyes briefly on the book he pointed out earlier, eyes limpid and tone soft. "But I have some idea," he added as he re-raised his eyes to face his new companion's. "I once knew Laurence, Gehrman, Micolash, sensei Willem... everyone at Byrgenwerth Royal before this."

"So you know about the Healing Church? And his disagreement with Master Willem?" Stewart questioned very briefly, his own eyes narrowing.

"Yes," Armand nodded in reply, frowning firmly. "We here called it 'the Schism'," he spoke on, as if from memory. "Sir Laurence truly was a gifted and charismatic man."

"You didn't go with him?"

Armand blinked initially, as if in surprise before soon frowning and shaking his head softly in response.

"No... I agreed with sensei Willem," the scholar claimed truthfully. "We could all see the benefits and effects of using the Old Blood but... it was merely a shortcut," he stated honestly as he shook his head once more, his eyes lowering in presumable thought. "As you've revealed... we've all seen the effects of its use."

Stewart winced in silent agreement, nodding along with him as he thought of the many infected residents of Central Yharnam.

"You told me you saw a blood-red moon?"

Stewart blinked once more and re-raised his head to face the older man before soon nodding enthusiastically.

"Rom...," Armand sighed this time however, briefly shutting his eyes as if in remembrance. "I'm sorry old girl."

"Who was Rom?" Stewart frowned out. "And why did Master Willem-?"

"I'm not completely certain but my hypothesis is that he did it for a very good reason," Armand explained very briefly in his frown. Stewart raised a curious eyebrow, his answers finally coming to light. "You mentioned there are two groups, did you not? A strange Choir and a School of Mensis yes?"

"Y-Yeah," Stewart nodded, fragments of the Butcher's words returning to his memory. "Yeah I remember."

"I'd wager that sensei Willem was attempting to prevent a ritual that either one of these groups could possibly have been preparing," he claimed on in his speech. Stewart's eyes narrowed as he listened. "Sensei Willem may have cared too much about evolution, but... I believe he cared about Yharnam also."

It would add up with what I read back in the Cathedral Ward, Stewart thought to himself.

The Byrgenwerth spider hides all manner of rituals, and keeps our lost master from us. A terrible shame. It makes my head shudder uncontrollably.

"And now... you have broken that seal," Armand sighed out as he shook his head disapprovingly, eyes shutting briefly as he did so. Stewart couldn't help but wince very softly in response, as if being told off somehow. "Things may be going just as they plan..."

"I'm sorry; maybe I shouldn't have..."

"It had to be done, I think," the black-haired scholar interrupted very firmly in his hard-eyed frown; Stewart's own eyebrows lifted, a sense of hope returning to his own face. "I can see why sensei Willem did what he did... but if all we do is halt progress... we make none of our own."

Armand was right, he thought.

A smile slowly returned to his face.

"We need a plan," the Byrgenwerth scholar frowned out as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "They may not realise you know anything about them... we must use this to our advantage."

Stewart nodded, a hard frown on his own face.

I hate these theoretical discussions, he thought to himself.

This was where the Butcher thrived, not me.

"You told me you encountered a message within your mind when you re-awoke, yes?"

Stewart's eyebrows lifted in sudden surprise and recognition, his memory replaying the words echoed back to him.

Ritual secret broken. Seek the nightmare newborn.

"Y-Yeah, I remember," the youth nodded in his frown. "What about it?"

"This would suggest to me that the presence demands a certain amount of blood or, Blood Echoes as you would call them, and a specific job." Armand theorised in his firm frown.

"B-But what basis are we judging this on?"

"What about your two friends you mentioned?" The older robed man asked, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head at the youth. "Sir Djura and lady Eileen, yes?"

Stewart's eyes widened for the umpteenth time when he thought of the former dreamers.

"I think I see where you're going with this..." He murmured out, his own eyes soon narrowing in slow thought.

Djura and Old Yharnam were connected – with what he told him he and his unit of the 'Powder Kegs' were ordered to burn the place down.

Eileen, hunter of hunters, perhaps had a job in killing a berserk fighter, either of the Church or not.

They were both in the position I'm in, he thought.

And both seemingly succeeded, only to become waking hunters of Yharnam.

"If you follow in their footsteps...," Armand began theorising in his hard-eyed frown. "Then you will change nothing."

Stewart's eyes lowered in hard thought, his optimism slowly draining from his face.

What hope had there been in their adventures?

How will mine be any different?

"Yours will be the third," Armand claimed in his hard-eyed frown. "How you deal with it... will be up to you."

"I need... something to work with, something to make sure things don't go the same way-"

As if to softly interrupt the youth mid-speech, Armand reached into his garb for a single, small folded note. He frowned firmly back at him as he fingered the note with his index and forefingers, firm and all. Stewart's eyes widened in surprise, soon falling silent. Wordlessly, Armand frowned as he stuck the note down upon the table they rested at before slowly pushing it across with both fingers. Stewart eyed it hungrily before reaching over and unfolding it.

Three third cords.

Stewart's eyes widened in slow recognition. He turned his head back over to face the curious-expressed Armand and received an unsure look in response.

"I'm not entirely sure what it me-? What is it...?" He asked, narrowing his eyes forward.

The young dreaming hunter reached into his clothes and, carefully, pulled out the umbilical cord he had retrieved from the abandoned old workshop. Still sitting dry in its rag of red, the ebony-black piece of flesh was given a full showing; Armand's eyes widened and he could only stare down at it.

"Of course," he breathed, as if unwilling to believe the sight before his eyes. "But that's impossible! How?!"

"In an old workshop just like the Hunter's Dream," he explained very briefly in his hard-eyed frown before soon re-pocketing the valuable. "I've got some idea of what it is but..."

"That writing on that note... is Laurence's; I know his handwriting," Armand interrupted very briefly and softly, frowning forward in his nod. "I believe now he was researching those."

"So... these are the key?"

"Precisely," Armand nodded in his hard-eyed frown. "Laurence and his Healing Church used the Old Blood to evolve and failed...," he began in his frown. "Sensei Willem tried to focus on expanding his very eyes in order to get closer to the Great Ones... but where they have both failed, you will succeed."

"W-What are you trying to tell me? That I'm stronger or smarter than them both?"

Armand could only let through a low grin on his expression. "No, Stewart...," he chuckled knowingly as he shook his head in response. "I'm trying to tell you that, when you're ready... you won't have to be."


Author's Note: Hi there, I don't normally do this sort of thing anymore but I find no other possible way for me to respond to guest reviewers; I can't seem to PM you both unfortunately so here goes:

Thanks so much for your kind words, especially for the last guest's. I love that you're enjoying this; it's words like those that motivate me to continue. I can only hope you'll continue to enjoy, thank you so much for spending time to read my work.