Hello everyone! This is Ashton.

Three important information before reading this story. I am not of English origin which is my second or even third language so if there are any mistakes, I would gladly accept that you help me correct them.

Second, I accept any constructive criticism that helps me improve myself, but I refuse insults and purely violent criticism.

Finally, the history will be updated every two weeks until I reach the end of my reserve.

Sorry for the inconvenience and happy reading!

The pale moonlight shone on the field of white flowers as the only witness to the duel that was taking place. The blows exchanged between the two warriors were swift and vicious. Neither seemed to be trying to seek an honourable fight. The horrible cleaver in the hands of the disciple struck under the guard of the scythe of the first hunter. Crimson blood spurted from the wound staining the white flowers on the ground in bloody hues. The scythe wearer released a slight squeal that had to spin his weapon using the momentum he had gained from his opponent's attack. The blow connected slashing the hunter's chest in front of him, sending them both staggering across the field.

Blood oozed from the open wound, the hunter had difficulty standing and used the cleaver like a cane, he could occasionally meet Gehrman's eyes through his greying hair. Grim determination was the only thing one could see in the piercing pupils of the old hunter. Whatever attack or strategy the apprentice hunter used; Gehrman would retaliate with twice the tenacity she used to attack him. Despite everything, the hunter saw eternal distress in the poor man's eyes. He knew the truth, he knew that it was all a game and that all would be over for him, another would take his place.

The hunter knew when a fight was lost. After all, he had been a part of thousands of lost battles in advance. He knew the feeling of not being able to accomplish anything and dying in pain. But for all that, he had hard discovered that even a disadvantageous fight could quickly turn in favour of the other.

But this fight was different, no turning back, no awakening like it was all a bad dream. No new attempt to try again and again learning the moves and techniques of his opponent. Losing here would be the end, it was his last chance to save at least one person from this horrible dream.

A vial of blood pierced the hunter's thigh. The brief, intrusive pain was eclipsed by the old blood that quickly spread throughout the hunter's body, again closing the aching chest wound in an instant. The bottle was attached to his belt where the previous remedies were located.

"That's nineteen," the old hunter squeaked. "More than a vial"

The first hunter bent his knees before jumping into the air, rapidly increasing the distance between the two warriors. Despite his age, his strength had not been diminished. The hunter rolled back quickly, causing Gehrman's scythe to find only the air in front of him. Hastily, the hunter re-engaged Gehrman, who with a mechanical click separated the blade from the shank of his scythe. The shorter blade swung for the hunter's head, who ducked under the blow, swinging to reach the open side of the old hunter. The cleaver struck nothing but the void. The hunter tried to back away only to be struck in the face by the old hunter's foot. He slipped a little to the side avoiding the scythe of the first of theirs.

With a growl of effort, Gehrman raised his blade above his head, slamming it into the ground as he backed up, the Hunter once again dodging the hard blow. Quickly taking advantage of the new opening, the Hunter crushed his foot on the weapon, trapping it in the soft ground while swinging his cleaver at the Gehrman's unguarded head. The first hunter abandons the anchored weapon and leaned away from the swing barely avoiding losing his mind to his disciple's unorthodox attack. The Hunter would press the create advantage only to be forced to dive to the right of way from the heavy blow of the modified blunderbuss wielded by Gehrman.

The blunderbuss roared as more fire followed, forcing the Hunter to move away from Gehrman. Taking advantage of the space gained, the first hunter quickly retrieved his weapon just in time to block a powerful swing from the enemy's chopper. The smooth blade creaked against the wild teeth of the saw as the first hunter attempted to push the weapon back. The two hunters, seeing the dead end, brought their respective weapons back to reach their pistol.

The Hunter's smallest pistol was the fastest weapon.

The quicksilver bullet tore the air presented a small sound and in a crimson splash penetrated Gehrman's hip causing the old Hunter to lose his balance. The gun was lowered to the belt as the Hunter took advantage of Gehrman's vulnerable state by plunging his arm into the old man's chest.

A wet crackle escaped the mouth of the first hunter. With a superhuman heave, the hunter pulled his arm towards him, tearing off a handful of red flesh. A cascade of blood ensued as Gehrman was pushed back by the force of his student.

Despite the severe wound that was crying a constant stream of blood, Gehrman still stood, staring at the hunter like a guardian gargoyle of a Yharnam cathedral.

Gehrman took a shaky step forward but stopped as more blood flowed from the open wound. A bloody cough escaped him and stained his hunter's outfit. The pale moonlight increased in intensity, the glow softly kissing Gehrman covering his form in a beaming flash. The light shone bright enough to force the Hunter's eyes to close, before the energy exploded out of Gehrman in a wave of white energy sending the Hunter high into the air disarming him in the process.

As the hunter recovered from the explosion of arcane energy, he quickly turned to Gehrman. The first hunter stood straighter than he had ever seen, undisturbed by his wounds which seemed to be closing in little by little. The scythe was grasped firmly in his hands, curls of a strange unknowable power radiated over his body disturbing the stagnant air of the Hunter's dream.

Gehrman took a step forward and then in a blur that disappeared.

Only the finely honed instincts of constant ambushes in the merciless streets of Yharnam allowed the Hunter to hide under the horizontal bar of the scythe. Rolling fast, the hunter barely stood a distance before Gehrman was upon him swinging his weapon in deadly arcs. The hunter was forced to dodge but even with all its skill, the long-range weapon still managed to score several long cuts through the poor hunter's leather and cloth suit. Another trail of blood splashed over the once pure white flowers.

The unarmed hunter slipped his hand behind his back and pulled a weapon from the lining of his coat that Gehrman did not recognize. It was a simple blade like a sword.

It was rare for a hunter to carry more than one weapon, but this was one of the exceptions. A second blade that hadn't seen the fight for a long time. A weapon more symbolic than useful.

He deflected the scythe attack to the side and separated from the old hunter starting to intercept Gehrman's blows. He was able to parry the attacks of the first hunter with difficulty, sometimes taking the wounds necessary to stop the most violent of the damage. The many deaths in Yharnam had taught him not to fear blood if it enabled him to defeat the adversary. Maybe the pain mattered to him now.

The blade danced with the scythe. Steel met steel. The hunter created an opening in the guard of the first hunter. It was what he needed.

He threw himself forward as one with his weapon and aimed at Gehrman's open neck. But the first hunter had more experience than he usually gave out. He raised his gun, parried the attack, and retaliated. The hunter did not have a chance to step back before he felt the steel penetrate the pulpit of his leg.

A gasping breath escaped the Hunter's mouth as the free kick pulled the air from his lungs. He lands on his back. Not giving him time to retrieve Gehrman threw his scythe as if it were a pickaxe. The hunter twisted his body barely avoiding the attack. The former easily released the weapon before lowering it again.

The still breathless hunter tried to pull his body back when the next shot came. But he knew he had no time to dodge. The ruthless scythe fell, aiming at the Hunter's heart. The best solution was to block the weapon with what it had.

The hilt of the sword fell from the hunter's nerveless fingers as the tip of the scythe pierced his forearm, stopping just before entering his chest. Gehrman groaned as he pushed the scythe deeper, causing a gasp in pain.

His arm had become the scabbard of the dangerous blade.

The hunter tried to grab his sword so that it could be kicked off him with a well-placed kick.

" Why? "Muttered Gehrman" Why persist, when you have nothing to gain, why fight Hunter? "

The hunter ponders the words while catching his breath.

"I ... just ... at least really want to save someone"

It was the truth. Despite all the people in the church who had been "saved", he never really helped them, only prolonging their suffering in this sick dream.

He knew the dream would resume as soon as he died. The last hunters still present would soon know his fate. That more would come along a similar and different path at the same time.

He had seen friends and brothers fall into bestiality. He hoped in vain that Brador would get out of his cell to live. That Djura the hunter free from the dream would go beyond his mission to protect the ancient center of a dead city.

He had not helped anyone. The other hunters had died one by one falling into madness. He had faced the worst creatures this world had to present and found out who really was the great.

He had watched the priests of the church lose themselves in sorrow while the rest of Yharnam went mad. He had lived through the downfall of the once prosperous city.

"Gascoigne" thought the hunter, remembering the poor foreign priest who had gradually indulged in bestiality.

The old man was the symbol of this madness. His greatest regret was not being able to end the sufferings of the foreign priest.

This nightmare had to end with at least rescuing someone. He didn't care what price he paid, he had to save someone. Let him end this damn downward spiral of madness and death. May his mind finally find some semblance of peace.

"Hunter does not save the others, we clean up after the situation does become a nightmare"

A gasp escaped the trapped hunter as Gehrman twisted the weapon.

"We are not heroes; we are the necessary evil of this world. We kill, fight and die without anyone remembering us. "

"I ... just ..." the Hunter continued in a mumble.

"What Hunter? "

In a quick movement, the apprentice threw his free fist full of dirt at the face of the first hunter. Gehrman in his shock quickly threw himself away from the Hunter tearing his scythe with him. The hunter quickly attacked Gehrman, pinning him to the ground and pushing his weapon back.

Landing on the old Hunter, he used his weight to quickly strike the unprotected head with his only working arm. The blow knocked the man's head to the side and slit a bloody gash on his lip.

Slipping like a snake, he attacked Gerhman's open belly to reach the spleen.

Using the hunter's useless right hand, Gehrman returned. Grabbing the hunter's head, he snapped his thumb into the hunter's eye. The pressure quickly caused the orb to burst.

The hunter howled in agony, taking advantage of the loss of balance, Gehrman pushed his student away from his chest and quickly slammed his remaining arm while closing his other arm around the hunter's throat.

The hunter struggled as he slowly choked. No matter how hard he tried to move his stuck arm, he could not break Gehrman's iron grip. The hunter had tried to move his bloody right arm, but he responded with only weak contractions. His legs couldn't kick high enough to reach a sore spot.

" No ! no… "

It was getting harder and harder to think… harder and harder to see… Tears formed on the side of his missing eye.

"I have to win! ... please anyone ... anything ... a devil, an angel ... Kos ... Oedon ... whatever! Let me repent and save someone… Don't leave me all alone again! "

A nauseating snap echoed through the calm field of flowers; the fight was over. The hunter's body fell to the ground in a puddle of bright red liquid. He managed to lift his sight one last time to see the first hunter laying his scythe on his neck.

"You must accept that your death has happened ... Be free from the nightmare and wake up in a better world"

It was an eternal fall for the hunter. An ever deeper fall into the darkness of this place.

For the first time since he had started killing, a comforting warmth had spread throughout the Hunter's body. A faint hope blossomed as the true prospect of release from the terrible dream made its way through him tired mind.

"Gehrman"

The name was like poison on his tongue killing the heat of the sun, breaking down the grass, withering the flowers and stealing a future far from dreams.

Far from the sun. Saving him will not erase the dream. But at least he will be free. At least ... He will have helped someone. The hunter felt the fall grow faster, an intense light choking him forcing him to close his eyes.

Then ... Like this it was all madness of him mind of him mind, the light faded. Engulfed in darkness and the hoarse noises of creatures around him. It seemed that the fall was metaphor for his life in Yharnam.

He felt his back hit a hard surface. Was he dead?

He did not know. He opened his eyes and became enraged before he calmed down. His whole body was covered in cold sweat. He took a deep breath again to calm himself down.

"Clear your mind ... Take the time to think ..."

He calmed his mind and resumed a more professional attitude. His instinct was screaming at him to calm down. It was never good to panic when you weren't didn't know his position.

He frowned slightly at the feeling of something strange.

"How can I breathe? "

He certainly remembered his death after Gehrman broke his neck. He was also aware that his heart had stopped beating after his blood loss. He remembered that shadow and that passage through the darkness to a dazzling light.

"Am I… alive?" I… I am no longer in the dream…"

The heart he thought was out beating faster than ever. He opened his eyes to realize that his eye had returned.

All of his senses of smell, hearing, touch, taste and sight were there, intact. Heavy tears rolled down him cheeks for the first time in a long time. He had indeed failed ... Once again ... He could not save anyone ...

He had a hard time remembering when he had arrived in Yharnam but he remembered the time before joining the dream. He must have grown up fast and had seen some of the older hunters as father figure that he now missed horribly.

"George…" he muttered, thinking of a particular hunter.

He closed his eyes and chased his thoughts. He had to go back ...

"No ..." he said offended.

He had failed. He could never go back to the dream again ...

But… At least he would go back to Yharnam to find a new way to right his wrongs… He knew others were stuck in the dream. He picked up his last vial of blood and injected it before getting up.

His whole body was screaming at him to rest but his mind was beckoning him to prepare. The Hunter looked around with weary eyes.

"Analyze the situation. "

He was in a sort of cave very deep underground. The walls were covered with a sort of simulacrum of red stone dotted with black veining. They appeared to have been burnt despite not dropping ash.

A noise echoed to his right.

The Hunter hissed and grabbed the saw off his back getting into a fighting stance. A dark green dragon monster with a long serpent body and four legs had appeared. His light-colored scales differed from where he was.

" What is that? He growled.

During all the time he had spent in the dream, he had never met such a creature. Then the revelation came to him. He was no longer in the dream.

Slipping to the side, dodging the beast's swift attack, he slipped under his stomach and stabbed his blade into the cracks of two scaly plates of armor causing the beast to roar.

The paw tried to crush him. It reminded him of the time he and another hunter had to face an Amygdala with other hunters. None had a clue what the Ancient One was doing outside of the nightmare, but they had stalked him for days before cornering him. They had suffered many losses that day but still did not get away forcing the beast back into the nightmare. It was his first real encounter with a Ancient One and it was still noteworthy.

In a way, he felt happy that he never had the opportunity to see the blood moon and the world as it really was. Even more for escaping the Eternal Hunt in the Hunter's Nightmare.

A sort of green smoke spread around the creature.

" Poison. Ashton noted, pulling him scarf up to his nose shielding himself from the smells.

He had to kill him quickly. Instinctively, he walked behind the creature's back trying to disconcert him. He strongly doubted that the bullets could pass through the beast and fell back on the direct contact method. Once again unscathed from a series of attacks, the hunter climbed onto the beast's back and slaughtered his blade in the unprotected part of the skull. Probably the man's quick and unorthodox strategy surprised the beast because it did not have a moment to react before he brought it down.

A beastly roar escaped her before she collapsed heavily to the ground in an infernal crash. The Hunter leaped from the back of his recent victim and watched the body dissolve into a clump of dust leaving only two plates of scale, a claw, and gem.

"What ... How ..."

He walked over and picked up the items obtained from the fight. It was not uncommon for him to have to pick up ammunition and weapons from his enemies, but it was the first time that he had been given so simply.

He picked them up cautiously and examined them. What could he use it for? The beasts never let go of anything totally unnecessary, the echoes of blood were proof of that.

He would ask another hunter when he saw one. Maybe Eileen would have an answer. The old hunter hunter had enough knowledge to help him.

He put the winnings behind his back. It hit him.

He was no longer in the dream and yet there were still beasts? What was going on here.

Noises echoed all around him. The same sound as the previous beast. The hunter picked up his weapon again and sighed tiredly.

No matter where he went, he would always be confronted with the beasts. A hoarse growl escaped his lips as more creature emerged from the nearby tunnels.

She had some sort of black armour similar to obsidian and a skeletal creature followed them. The mysterious blood that had been injected into him by the Blood Minister heated up in him. There were beasts and monsters in this world. His role was not yet finished.

The hunter snapped his foot and took a stand. His hoarse voice echoed through the hallways empty of human presence.

"Ashton Warden is joining the hunt. "

Prologue used to set up part of who Ashton is. Intense start with a shamefully inspiring fight from a friend who kindly helped me get him back in shape removing several unnecessary parts.

Part two is already written and ready for release on Sunday in two weeks.

Until then, take care of yourself!

Ashton Out!