Hello everyone! Thanks for reading! So, I know I said this would be a two-shot, but I think there will be 3-4 chapters after all. And to think I originally planned this as an one-shot haha. Enjoy!
Oscar woke up.
Being Hollow felt no different than being alive.
His thoughts, his emotions, even the pain of his broken body., everything remained the same.
He stood still and silent in disbelief.
Was that all there was to Hollowing?
Was that really the state of existence every Undead feared?
Such an unfounded and ridiculous superstition.
Disappointment simmered inside him together with another emotion.
Betrayal.
Oscar was no stranger to it. In the forsaken land of the Undead, no one was. It was a hard lesson that every Undead had to experience sooner or later. It came in many forms.
Sometimes, betrayal came in the form of comrades that backstabbed their friends the moment they no longer were of any use to them.
Other times, betrayal manifested as strangers that lured innocent fools to their deaths with honeyed and playful words that concealed their dark intentions.
Above all, betrayal found its way through the uncaring attitude of the gods towards their people, for it was not uncommon to see the most jolly of believers or the most faithful of followers lose themselves to despair when they realized their efforts would never amount to anything and their prayers would always go unanswered.
In all these shapes, Oscar knew betrayal, but he had never felt as betrayed by anything or anyone than by his own Hollowing.
Why had it not driven him to madness?
Why had it not forced him to forget all about himself and succumb to his lowest instincts?
Why was he still aware of his reality?
His gloved fingers scratched the rocky ground.
As scared and regretful as he had been as his Hollowing overcame him, deep down, Oscar had also wished that his new existence would free him from all his earthly burdens.
His failures, his regrets, his fate, none of it would matter once he had gone Hollow. It wouldn't be because Oscar would have come to terms with the mistakes of his previous life.
No, overcoming defeat and moving on was a skill exclusive to the living and a few Undead, those whose wills were adamant enough to keep going no matter how many times they died.
Hollows had a different fate.
Through the eyes of a broken man, such fate was superior to the endless fighting that plagued those who never surrendered.
Madness, and the peace that came with it, even if it was just a pale imitation of the real thing.
Oscar had always considered those ideas to be little more than the senseless blabber of crestfallen warriors and sullen commoners, but when he found himself at the brink of his final death after the loss of the fate he had coveted all his life, he had begun to understand the meaning and wisdom behind those words.
After all, a mad being without a purpose or the sanity necessary to care about its situation was also exempt from all types of suffering.
Hollows did not care about the futility of their existence or the uselessness of their actions; they merely existed as the brainless creatures they had been reduced to.
The hate and despair that guided them couldn't hurt them, not when they were no longer able to understand where those sentiments came from or what they meant to them.
They couldn't ponder endlessly on those feelings as the living and the Undead did.
To Hollows, they were the fuel that drove them to attack, destroy, harm and kill, nothing else.
It was a pathetic existence, but also a painless one. If Oscar thought about it, he could see a grotesque beauty in its simplicity.
It was a lot more than what Oscar could say about the life and fate of any Undead, and especially his own.
"Is this my true fate?" Oscar asked. His voice took him aback; it once had been soft and soothing, now, it was so guttural and hoarse than it was more akin to the growl of an animal.
It repulsed him, and made him wonder how dreadful his appearance was.
Not that it matters now. Perhaps this new appearance is a blessing. The next foolish knight that ventures into this place will not hesitate to kill me the moment he sees me. I wouldn't stop him. Who knows? I think he would be doing me a favor.
An answer he hadn't expected came to him.
Oscar tensed his entire body the moment he heard the screech of rusty metal coming from his left side.
His faced turned by instinct towards it. The touch of soil on his cheek and the clear sight of burning fire made Oscar realize his face was naked.
My helmet.
How he had lost it was a question Oscar couldn't answer. As hazy as his memories before his Hollowing were, he could swear on his honor that he had died with his face covered.
Before he could continue to ponder about his missing piece of armor, Oscar became more intrigued about the bonfire that slowly continued to heal his damaged body.
He had no memory of lighting it. Oscar had been so immersed in trying to kickstart the prophecy that he had forgotten about the most basic precaution to survive in that doomed land.
A shameful mistake, one that would have earned him the scorn and ridicule of every other Undead.
No, it wasn't that I forgot.
Oscar thought, looking up to the roof in search of the rays of light piercing through the hole he had created after the demon had sent him flying with a single swing of its hammer.
He found only untouched stone covered with cobwebs and leaks of rotting water.
I thought lighting it would be unnecessary. I never imagined I would die and hollow here. My fate was to escape this place and become the Chosen One. Who else if not me, a skilled and brave elite knight of Astora, was worthy of the title? What a blind and prideful fool I was.
A shadowy silhouette hidden behind the other side of fire stood up, its movements preceded again by the clanky whisper of its armor.
Oscar clenched his fists and tried to move, but his body, while slightly recovered, was still in no condition to fight or flee.
His heart thumped inside his chest as the Hollow approached him.
Or was it an Undead?
For all Oscar knew, it could be one of the many he had freed from their cells.
A bitter chuckle drowned inside his throat.
That would be a fitting fate for a loser such as me. A fate that repeats itself endlessly in a loop of failure and death. What a meaningless existence my life is, what a wasteful burden to bear. I despise my fate, but what does my hate matter? It's all over, and whatever existence I am forced to endure after this one, I'm sure it will be just as cursed. End my life then, fellow Hollow, and pray that I fade into oblivion for good.
Oscar closed his eyes just as the figure stopped next of him, looming over him and casting its shadow over his chest.
Silently, Oscar took a final breath and braced himself for the lethal blow, whether it came as a stab in the heart, a swing to his neck or a crushing blow to his skull.
He had resigned himself to his fate and found numbness, if not peace.
For Hollows like him, fortune didn't get any kinder.
Oscar tried to find sanctuary in happier memories of his life one last time.
His childhood, his family, his fellow knights, but they were all phantoms that disappeared when he tried to reach them.
The Hollowing had taken them away from him forever.
Am I not allowed even this small comfort?
The sound of the other's armor echoed through the cell, followed by the thump of its knees resting on the floor.
Why, gods?
Oscar flinched at the touch of a gloved hand on his forehead. He knew what would follow.
The other Hollow would pull his head back to expose his neck completely, and then, Oscar would feel the sharp bite of steel as his throat was slit open.
I know I failed, I know I am not a perfect man, perhaps not even a good one, but I always tried my best. I persevered, I lived as honorably as possible. I always knew the darkness would end and a new age of fire would come. My faith never wavered until now. Why, then? Lord Gwyn... how did I ever offend you? Why do you punish me with this cursed fate? Please, answer me. I beg of you.
"You're awake. It was about time."
Oscar's eyes opened against his will. He found a face of rotting flesh staring at him. The image was dreadful, but to Oscar, it felt godsent.
Sadly, his relief was short-lived.
"You." Oscar grabbed the Undead's wrist. "But... you died and went Hollow. The demon, it defeated you. It—"
"It's gone, and I'm still here." The other Undead answered, freeing their hand from Oscar's grasp. They searched inside a dirty bag tied to the hip of their recently acquired broken armor, probably a souvenir of a defeated Hollow, and took out an Estus Flask.
The same Oscar had given to them during what had supposedly been their final farewell.
"Drink."
"Why? Why are you still here?" Oscar said harshly. "The prophecy... it will not begin until you leave this place. Forget about me. Our fates are different, mine is to perish here, yours is to live and link the fire. You promised me, remember? Or does your word have no value at all?"
"Drink."
"Fool. You defeated the demon; you survived your first ordeal. You journey has just begun." His words came loaded with anger. "Don't you dare put everything at risk now."
Not for me, not me. I would never forgive myself if…
"You talk too much." With little gentleness, the other Undead put a hand behind Oscar's head and lifted it. They then put the Estus Flask so close to his mouth that Oscar could feel a few drops of the elixir soaking his lips. "Now drink."
Oscar mustered all the strength left in his broken body and slapped the Estus Flask away from his face with a violent swing of his arm.
It was a miracle the flask didn't escape the Undead and crashed against the floor.
Somehow, Oscar could see shock and offense form in the empty eyeholes of the Undead. Shame almost drove him to apologize, but he had no time for formalities.
Every second the Undead passed in his presence was an invitation for Oscar to kill them. He was now Hollow, he could lose control at any moment.
If he did, then everything both him and the Undead had accomplished so far would have been for nothing.
No, I won't let you do this to either of us.
Oscar straightened his back. His belly burned as if it was covered with red irons. The sea of blood that once had been his insides protested against his efforts and punished him for his sudden movements.
A warm surge of blood rushed up his throat. Oscar coughed it up messily after almost choking on it.
His arms trembled as his strength faltered. The Other Undead held Oscar with their free hand before his head could crash against the ground.
Then, they helped him into his knees and continued to aid Oscar as he, with both his hands shaking as they struggled to endure his weight, vomited what seemed to be a ceaseless stream of blood.
"Idiot. You should have drunk." The other Undead said to Oscar as they helped him rest his back against the cell's wall, as closely to the bonfire as possible. "You're too stupid to be a knight. Your homeland must have low standards."
"How dare you insult—" Oscar said in between gasps. Before he knew it, the Undead emptied half the Estus Flask inside his mouth and forced him to swallow.
The cure worked instantly. Oscar felt how the burning pain from his destroyed insides began to vanish, as did the sharp sting of his torn muscles and broken bones.
"It worked." The other Undead said with faint amusement. "Knights are so predictable. Here, drink the rest."
Oscar glared at the Undead, his lips tightly sealed. It was embarrassing enough he had fallen for a trick so cheap once.
He wouldn't allow it to happen again.
Realizing Oscar would not drink even a single drop more, the Undead sighed heavily and put the Estus Flask away in their bag.
They sat next to Oscar and looked at the fire. "Suit yourself. Let's wait for the bonfire to heal you then. It could take a while"
The Undead looked at Oscar, but the knight rejected the contact and moved his head in the opposite direction.
They spent a long while with only the sizzling sound of embers as their company. While the Undead seemed to be hypnotized by the dancing flames, Oscar kept his eyes fixed on the wall.
He didn't dare to look away from it. It was as if his whole world would crumble if he did.
"Your sword and your shield. They're over there, and so is your helmet." The Undead said.
Oscar didn't answer, nor he gave the Undead any signs of having heard them.
He noticed a forced friendliness in the Undead's tone. They were trying their best to initiate a casual conversation, perhaps in an attempt to ease the tension between them and Oscar.
Sadly for them, the result was the complete opposite, and Oscar's anger towards them continued to grow stronger, though not as much as it grew against himself.
"Forgive me if I offended you by removing your helmet, but I had no choice. I had to make sure the Humanity I infused you with was stopping your Hollowing. It worked, but not totally."
A kick in the teeth wouldn't have been more effective. Oscar hid his eyes behind his hand.
I see, so you are the reason my Hollowing wasn't completed. You robbed me of my fate yet again...and what's worse, you wasted one precious Humanity in someone like me. You damned fool. Look at you, you should have used it on yourself.
"It's alright." The Undead said, resting their hand on Oscar's shoulder. "Half your face still looks hollow, and your voice is damaged, but you're still here, that's all that matters."
Oscar jerked his shoulder, forcing the Undead's hand off him.
"Your concern for me is meaningless." Oscar said, still refusing to look at the Undead in the face. "I neither need it nor appreciate it. Get out of here, I don't want to be in your presence any longer. It sickens me to know I have entrusted the fate of the world to a moron like you. Leave and never return."
"Sure, I'll leave. " The Undead replied. "And you're coming with me."
"I'm not. You have your fate, and I have mine."
A fate too important to let it go to waste because of me. Please.
"I know."
"So go now."
"No."
"Then I'll kill you."
With a brusque movement only enabled by the combined healing of the Estus Flask and the bonfire, Oscar faced the Undead and grabbed them by the neck with the same hand he had used to cover his eyes.
The Undead's rotting face showed no emotion as Oscar's fingers became warped around their neck. Seeing the Undead's face corrupted while his was healed, even if just partially, made Oscar's heart sunk to his feet.
Look at you. You should have used that Humanity on yourself, not me. Had our roles been reversed, I...
Guilt stopped being a concept and became a physical burden so heavy that Oscar feared it would crush him until nothing but the dust of his bones remained.
He couldn't continue with his Hollow charade. Oscar's fingers slipped from the Undead's neck; his hand fell to the floor.
Oscar stared at it, not daring to look at the Undead's face any longer.
"Why?" Oscar didn't know how he kept his tears at bay, but he was grateful for it. He had already made a fool of himself too many times for a lifetime. "Why did you come back for me? I didn't ask you to save me."
"It's true. You didn't." The Undead nodded.
Oscar felt no trace of anger towards him from their part.
"Then why? Why you did it?" Oscar's voice trembled, making him sound like a demon.
"I could ask you the same about me."
Oscar laughed. It was the first heartfelt sound that came from his body in a long time, and yet, it felt cruel and condescending.
"Do you think I saved you? You think I freed you from your cell because I felt sorry for you?" Oscar said, directing a piercing glare to the Undead. "I care not about you at all. You were merely one of the many Undead I freed in case I failed. You were a failsafe, a plan B. You mean nothing to me as a person."
"I see. Still, you saved me. Now I'll return the favour to you, whether you want it or not."
"Are you listening to me? Or is your brain as rotten as your face and you can't understand my words?"
"Mock me if you want. Come," the Undead stood up. They offered their hand to Oscar, "let's get out of here. If you have the strength to argue, then you have the strength to walk. I'll help you."
"I hate you." Oscar hissed at them. "I wish you had gone Hollow after that demon killed you."
The Undead winced, their hand slightly retreating.
It was working. Oscar didn't wait for an answer. He knew he had to be relentless and inject as much venom as he could into his words
"That's all I could think about as I died after you left me behind to fight that monster. If you had Hollowed, then maybe my own Hollowing wouldn't have started in the first place. Somehow, I would have found a way to cure myself and leave this place so that I could be the Chosen One. It is not the injuries that demon inflicted on me which almost turned me Hollow, it was you. All of this is your fault. You robbed me of my fate, you left my heart devoid of hope, and for that, I hate you more than you can imagine, foul thief."
Oscar spat at their feet. The vulgar gesture came out more naturally than he intended, and he wondered how much he had faked it, if he had at all.
Do you see now? I'm not worth saving. Please, leave me. I don't want to move on anymore. I just want to disappear. That's my fate.
"I hate you too."
Oscar's heart went numb for a second. The Undead clenched the hand they had offered him.
"I never asked you to free me. I had already accepted my fate to remain forever trapped in that rotting cell until the end of time came. It was a meaningless life, but also uneventful... and so much better than the living hell that is the outside world; but then you came and changed everything. You set me on a path I didn't choose, and I hate you so much for it."
The Undead trembled from head to toe. Oscar kept quiet, bitting his tongue and trying to endure the guilt festering inside him.
"The Chosen One? The prophecy? The bells? Gwyn's fire? I wanted none of it. I had given up on this world. It is not worth living in it, and it's definitely not worth saving."
Oscar wish he could tear his ears off.
If the Undead noticed the despair they were inflicting on the fallen knight, they didn't care. They kept going, making Oscar believe they did so out of a twisted form of revenge against him.
"All I wanted was to remain here until I Hollowed... and I almost succeded." The Undead fixed the black holes they had for eyes on Oscar. "Had you arrived a second later, you would not have found an Undead capable of thought, but a crazed Hollow lusting for destruction. I was so close to fulfilling my true fate, but your appearance lighted a spark of hope in my heart. It was feeble, but somehow, it was all I needed to keep my Hollowing at bay, whether I wanted it or not. You saved me, and I hate you for it, just as much as you hate me for coming back for you."
"If you hate me so much for stopping your Hollowing, why did you—"
"Because we were wrong." The Undead replied. "This place is not our grave, knight. Dying and Hollowing is not our fate. For so many years, I convinced myself of the opposite, and yet, it took only your fleeting appearance to make those thoughts go away. I realized that maybe even a lowly Undead without memories or a past like me could still have a purpose, if I just dared to walk the path you had set for me. So yes, I hate you for setting me free on this world of misery I sought to escape, I hate you for proving my beliefs wrong, I hate you for robbing me of the fate I had chosen for myself… but my hate is nothing compared to how grateful I am to you for this new chance at life you gave me, even if that was not your intention and I mean nothing to you."
The Undead's voice broke. Before Oscar could say anything, they went to a corner.
They returned to Oscar's side with all of his equipment. The Undead carried his sword and shield on their back.
They knelt next to Oscar, and offered him his helmet, the only missing part of his armour.
Oscar couldn't accept it, not when all his energy was spent on trying to contain his tears.
He failed miserbly, just like he had done so so many times before in his life.
"Please, elite knight, let me return the favour." The Undead said, gently setting the helmet on Oscar's head, maybe sensing the shame the knight's tears caused him. Then, they offered him their hand again. "You've done so much for me, more than you imagine. Let me get you out of this place, alright? It's the least this lowly Undead can do for you."
Oscar had always felt safe behind the privacy of his helmet. Now, the shelter it offered him didn't help him feel any less pathetic.
He lifted his hand, trembling, unsure of what he was doing. A thousand questions fluttered in his mind.
Was it right for him to be saved?
The prophecy spoke of only one Undead escaping... what would be the consequences if two did instead?
Who would be the Chosen One?
Him, or the other?
What would they have to do to prove themselves worthy?
What would Oscar be capable of?
Oscar knew the answer.
He knew what lengths he would go to make himself worthy of the title. If his aborted Hollowing had taken away precious memories from him, it had also granted Oscar something valuable in return: a truth about himself he would have never discovered otherwise.
No, he wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't let himself turn into a green-eyed monster hungry for glory, no more than he already was.
It was settled.
Oscar would remain in the Asylum, and the Undead he had freed would—
"You sure like to take your time." The Undead said with a trace of friendly mockery. They grabbed Oscar's arm and drapped it around their shoulders. They secured him by getting a firm grasp on Oscar's wrist and holding him by the waist with their other hand. "Let's get you back on your feet. Are you ready?"
"I'm not coming with—"
"Here we go."
"Wait." Oscar didn't have time to prepare. He gave out a wheezing grunt of pain as his legs and damaged insides stung under the weight of his armor.
Though the Undead carried most of his weight on their shoulders, keeping himself on his feet was a harder task than Oscar had imagined.
He rested his free hand against the wall, breathing mouthfuls of the Asylum's musky air. They came together with the bubbling echo of the blood still trapped in his throat.
Oscar coughed it out, almost losing his balance each time he arched his stomach.
"I'm sorry, perhaps I was too brusque." The Undead said. "Are you alright?"
Oscar gave a last violent cough as an answer, causing a few drops of blood to escape through the slots of his helmet.
"Easy." The Undead said as Oscar struggled to catch his breath. They let go of his waist and hastily looked inside their bag. "Rubbish, a pebble, an arrow... here it is! No, wait, that's just another pebble. Damn, why is that flask so hard to find every time I need it?"
"Leave it, I'm fine." Oscar said in between gasps. "My injuries are not lethal anymore. Save the cure for later, I don't need it right now."
"Dont be stupid. We can always refill the flask as long as the bonfire—"
"I know, but everytime we do so, the enemies we both defeated so far may return." Oscar insisted strictly. "Let's not push our luck. We need to get out of here now."
´We´? Have I so easily accepted it? Am I so eager to get another chance at being the Chosen One that I would allow this Undead to save me? Even after I know what I would be capable of? I truly have no shame.
"Very well." The Undead said with little conviction. Just when Oscar felt he needed to instruct them further, the Undead returned their hand to his waist and helped him walk.
Their pace was slow and clumsy. Sweeps of pain traveled through Oscar's body with every step he took.
He tried to keep his grunts silent, but from time to time, one escaped him in the form of a drowned scream.
Each time, the Undead stopped, allowing Oscar as much time as he needed before they could continue. They also used those brief breaks to steady their hold on Oscar.
From behind his helmet, Oscar looked at his fellow Undead. His eyes, still red from the tears he had shed, became misty again at the sight of the other.
You are tired too. Your battle with that demon left you weak and you still haven't recovered. Do you think I don't notice? I can feel it in your steps, I can hear it in your breathing, I can smell it in your sweat... but still, here you are. Burdening yourself with a dead weight like me. Fate must have been in a jesting mood when it decided I would be entrusting the fate of this land to you, the most foolish Undead in all of Lordran. Unless I—
Again those instrusive dark thoughts. Oscar casted them away from his mind, but their mark remained.
"Listen to me." Oscar said, his kneels trembling. "Please."
The Undead pulled his arm, relieving Oscar of as much of his weight as they could. A small smile appeared on the wrinkled corner of their mouth. "No. You talk too much. Save it for when we are out of this place. You can lecture me all you want then; or you can insult me too. You seem to be fond of it."
"I'll betray you."
The Undead's smile wavered. More than fear or shock, it was confusion which painted their corrupted face.
"I don't understand."
"If we both make an exodus from this place, either of us could be the Chosen One. The prophecy cannot be changed or challenged...in the end, one of us would have to die so that the other could fulfill their fate and link Gwyn's fire." Oscar spoke calmly, as if he was talking to a friend about the most trivial of matters, even if the digust he felt towards himself increased with every word. "I've wanted nothing more in my entire life than to have such purpose. I've trained, fought and suffered endless trials to become the knight I needed to be so I could be worthy of the title."
The Undead listened in silence. Oscar made a short pause, in hopes they would have something to say.
After receiving nothing, he continued.
"Just as I gave you another chance at life, if you save me now, you'll be giving me another chance to take back the fate I thought lost, and I will not hesitate to fight for it, no matter the cost."
The Undead remained quiet.
Say something. Leave me behind. Kill me. Make me go Hollow. Say something... do something! Please, your silence is more than I can bear.
"You're not saving your generous friend, you are freeing your envious rival. Your enemy."
"I see."
Always with the dry answers. Had Oscar been in better shape, he probably would have punched the Undead in the face.
Instead, he laughed without humor.
"Now you know."
"Indeed."
"What will you do?" Oscar asked them.
"The answer is obvious."
"I see." Oscar didn't blame them. He would have done the same. "Know that my heart is free of any resentment towards you. I wish you luck in your journey. Oh, before you go, there is something I wanted to tell you. "
My name.
"I'm—"
"You see? You talk too much." The Undead reassumed their march. Oscar couldn't stop them. "Like I told you, save it for later. We are close to the entrance now."
"But," Oscar tried to move his arm, but the Undead's grasp on his wrist was as strong as a shackle, "why?"
"Because you haven't betrayed me yet."
"But I will, I know it in my heart."
"And why are you so sure?"
"Because that's who I am. If we both survive, betraying you will be my fate."
"Fate." The Undead snorted. "If fate has proven to be anything today is that it is as fickle as a goddess' purity."
"But—"
"Enough." The Undead said firmly. "Maybe your fate is to betray me after all. Maybe I'll kill you first, maybe we'll both die and the prophecy will be lost forever. Don't misunderstand, I don't know tomorrow any better than you do, knight. I don't know what my ultimate fate is, but... I know that wasting my existance away in this place, feeling sorry for myself, hiding from the outside world like I did for so long is not it."
"So instead of fighting for the fate you would wish for yourself, you struggle to avoid the fate you dread."
"It seems that way."
"You are a fool. Then again," Oscar took a step foward. His helmet concealed a soft smile, "so am I."
The Undead nodded and continued to support Oscar.
Maybe I could do the same. If I can't be the Chosen One, maybe... I can try my best to become your ally and not your enemy. That's the fate I want for myself now. It's not much, but it's not nothing. That's good enough for me.
"Oscar. Oscar of Astora."
"What?"
Oscar turned his face towards the Undead.
"My name."
"Oh, I see. My name is..." The Undead's face darkened. They let go of Oscar's waist to open the Asylum's gates. "I don't remember."
"That's alright." Oscar replied, slightly regretting bringing up the subject. "I'm sorry if I caused you offense."
"You didn't. I have only myself to blame for the loss of my name." They kept on walking. They were almost at the edge of the cliff. "Thank you for sharing your name with me, knight… Oscar. I only wish I could do the same."
"Maybe I could call you Chosen Undead in the meanwhile. You know, to keep you motivated and focused on your potential fate."
The Undead laughed under their breath.
"Yes." The Undead smiled. "I think I'd like—"
They never got to finish.
A whistling arrow made sure to silence the other Undead for good when it pierced their throat from behind.
Oscar could only catch a brief glimpse of the rain of tendons and putrid blood that came sporuting from the Undead's wound before they crashed against the floor.
An explosion of pain emerged from his belly, but Oscar didn't feel it. His injuries were mere trivialities.
All that mattered to him now was the inert body lying next to him as a crimson puddle melted the snow underneath them.
"No!" Oscar reached his hand towards the Undead.
As furious as he was scared, Oscar rested his hands on the floor and looked over his shoulder.
Dozens of Hollows, armed to the teeth with bows, swords, axes and torches infested the Asylum walls.
He recognized most of them, not because he had met them in life.
They were the same many Undeads he had freed.
All of them have failed, all of them had Hollowed.
"How can this be?" Oscar muttered as a hoard of Hollows emerged from the Asylum's doors. One of them, their leader, held the bonfire's scorched sword in its hand as a trophy.
Oscar looked at the other Undead. He crawled to their side and held them in his arms.
Is this...
The herd of frenzied Hollows roared in unison before charging at them like a stampede.
Oscar didn't care.
In his mind, only one incomplete thought lingered.
...our fate?