Chapter 6

6

The Lamentations

Violence begets violence.

"WAIT! WAIT!"

The ogre shrieked as the Hunter's cleaver descended onto her head, crunching through bone and brain with merciless efficiency. Cyril Sutherland's eyes were pitiless as he yanked the blade out of the greenskin's body. All around him, men and monster had died by the blade or by the bullet. The city was chaos as monsters ravaged and took men who were foolish enough to stand their ground or had failed to flee in time.

Cyril had seen what happened to those who were taken, having lost their minds to the monster's magic. But they bled and all things that bled could die. It didn't matter if it was a monster or a man, a beast was a beast wearing skin. For a moment the Hunter didn't see the city of Lescatie. His mind had taken him back, back to the Night of the Hunt where beasts and madmen roamed the city. The same beasts that he slaughtered on a constant basis during a horrific night that never ended.

Cyril snarled as he shook his head of those memories. He still had to get out, he could not afford any distractions. When he was out of the city, when he had finally found somewhere he could live in peace then maybe he would let the memories come. He could live with that punishment. The Hunter moved on, doing his best to avoid open battlegrounds. He stopped, hiding behind the ruin of a building as he saw a pack of werewolves chase a group of Order Soldiers around.

Keeping a tight grip on his Saw Cleaver Cyril kept moving, eyes sharp for anything out of the ordinary or potential additions to his body counts. He was not about to rescue every trapped soul in this city either, it was damned and everyone who was still here knew it. Peeking around the corner, Cyril crossed the street keeping low as he heard the flapping of some great beast above. A howl alerted him and the Hunter moved even faster, firing his pistol into a blur he barely saw.

The monster screeched as the Hunter's bullet took it in the gut. Cyril barreled through the wreckage of a carriage and found himself caught up in a fight. He swung his Cleaver into the mob, his muttering filled with baleful cursing. Even if he did make it early enough that mapmaker who told him he had a ride out of here was either dead or taken by a monster. In any case the location, an entryway into the sewers and a short trip later and he would be out of the city. If his luck held, he'd be doing it in a wagon or a good horse.

Cyril pistol whipped an Order soldier in the face, the man's skull shattered like an egg. A wail alerted him to the sound of a harpy that flew at him in incoherent rage. Cyril cut the bird like monster woman apart with a vertical swing, snarling as he was slowed down by the mob fighting it out in the streets in front of him… around him.

The Hunter let out a bloodcurdling howl, filled with hate. Hate for everything around him. Hate for the Night of the Hunt. Hate for himself who had stained his hands with blood. The crowd of men and monsters briefly turned to the new opponent that had revealed itself. Many of those faces lost their rapturous glow and had turned to terror as something utterly inimical to all sentient life was just unleashed upon them.

Cyril's first victim was a spear-man of the Order who died instantly, the Saw Cleaver completely obliterated his face as the Hunter swung it into him. The Hunter's pistol barked once, killing a Lamia instantly with a head shot. She fell, her body twitching in its death throes. The Hunter hacked his way through, making no effort to tell the difference between innocent or guilty. He hated himself enough for his sins. What was a few more to add to the already heavy burden on his shoulders? What was a few more bodies, when the siege was already in the monsters' favor? The Hunter spun round and beheaded another monster with a savage back swing. Blood sprayed through the air covering horrified men and monster women that stood there paralyzed at seeing such slaughter. Cyril's empty pistol bludgeoned an Order soldier in the face, breaking through bone with a wet crunch.

The Hunter swung his cleaver savagely into another monster. He kicked the dying monstrosity aside and went for another victim. His blade carving a path through the mob of men and monsters, Cyril's blade work was brutally effective. Another crunch of bone, a man died without a sound. Cyril swung again, horizontal this time and opened a monster's guts to the night air.

Cyril snarled furiously as a sword bit into his side. The enemy warrior gawped in terror and confusion as Cyril's Saw Cleaver carved a deep gash in her skull. She died in confusion and pain, slumping boneless to the street, another addition to the carpet of bodies in Cyril's wake. The Hunter stalked forward saw cleaver swinging as he ended another man's life. The boy screamed as he lost and arm and a leg. The Hunter's boot crushed his throat and ceased his screaming.

The Hunter killed. And killed. And killed. Covering himself in the crimson life fluid of men and monster alike.

He was not going to stop until he was out of Lescatie.

If he had to fight the entirety of the Order and whatever Monster Lord's army to do it, he'd be happy to oblige them.

Fina stopped as she saw the headless corpse sitting in front of her target's house. The Dhampir panted, realizing that things had gotten a lot more complicated. The attack on Lescatie had been perfect, the spies having done their best to undermine the city's defenses. In fact, it may have been that the city's growing problems had been the ticket to Druella's mostly successful invasion.

The problem was that the Order still had its teeth. Fina shuddered at the thought of her target striding amongst their soldiers to face them in battle but seeing the headless corpse of an inquisitor changed that. It seemed that the Hunter was intending to escape the city. Fina drew her sword. While there were many monsters already inside the walls, there were still pockets of resistance throughout the city. Heroes, soldiers, knights and anyone else who could pick up a weapon to fight had been conscripted by the clergy.

She kept walking through the slums, eventually finding more corpses. Men and monster littered the ground like a trail, all of them were in various states of dismemberment. Fina felt sickened by the slaughter but she judged that this trail of destruction was the Hunter's grim and bloody work. The Dhampir retched as she saw the bisected halves of a Werewolf. The monster had tears streaking down her cheeks from her dead eyes, which stared at the body of a young man wearing armor, he had died trying to hold his guts inside his body. His other hand reached out to the Werewolf Fina avoided looking at the tragic sight, wondering what kind of mad fiend was so ready to inflict such cruelty upon other living beings.

If she was any wiser, she would have known that when pushed, men would do horrible things to another living being in order to survive. Such was the fate of all who took the oath as a Hunter, they lived and breathed on bloodshed and pain.

Fina continued following the path of carnage, passing by monsters who were already having their pick of the spoils. Cries and moans were everywhere, which contrasted with the ring of steel and the battle cries of those Order soldiers who fought to the bitter end. The Dhampir saw that the city was in chaos, ignoring those monsters who beckoned her to join the fun and avoiding Order soldiers who carried out their orders to the last man.

She had a mission to complete, a terrifying one that she did not want to see the end of.

Fina continued through the darkening streets even as she felt a terrible force of mana approach the castle. Druella herself was on the move, ready to take the castle and the royal family to end this siege. That was not her problem. She had to find this Hunter before he escaped… before he-

"Greetings, Fina daughter of Seras."

Fina turned, sword in both hands as a Banshee stepped out of the shadows. It was the very same Elder that had visited Ursula's camp a few weeks ago. Fina lowered her weapon but only slightly. "L-Lady Banshee." She said, her breathing hard. "What do you want from me?"

The Elder Banshee blinked and she tilted her head. "Did you not hear my warning to your captain?" She asked.

"I… I did." Fina said hesitantly. "But I…"

"So she has chosen not to heed it." The Elder said softly, her voice tinged with regret. "Then I hope she is prepared for what is to come…"

"Who?" Fina asked. "Who is prepared for what?"

The Elder faced her, eyes filled with grave certainty. "Your mother will lose her daughter this night." She pointed at Fina whose eyes widened.

"If you face the Hunter in battle, your skull will hang from his belt and your mother will weep and wail but you will never return to her embrace." The finality in her tone caused a chill to go up Fina's spine.

"Who…" Fina asked, gulping. "Who else is fated to die this night by his hands?"

The Elder smiled. "Such concern for others you have." She commented lightly. "Many will never return in triumph from this city. A proud High Orc will die screaming in the streets. A Lamia will never go home to her husband and daughters. A Kunoichi will offer herself willingly to the Hunter's blade all to silence the voices that haunt her every waking moment."

That made Fina stop thinking for a few moments, trying to process the information she had just been given.

"A… A kunoichi." She said slowly to the Elder Banshee. "You said a Kunoichi."

The Banshee tilted her head. "Yes?"

Fina swore. She sheathed her blade and started running to the front lines, ignoring the Banshee staring at her back. The Elder smiled serenely, already the threads of fate that chained her to the moon scented Hunter had changed directly, intertwining directly with that of the Kunoichi's. An unbreakable bond, impervious to the cloying touch of death… for a while at least.

The Banshee did not know where that path would take young Fina but she was interested in how this story would end. She stepped back into the shadows, to the realm where all her kind moved freely to wherever they were needed to grieve for those who were about to be lost.

The Hunter panted underneath his cloth bandanna pistol emptied and Saw Cleaver covered in blood. Cyril shakily holstered his pistol as he reached for his shoulder, particularly the arrow impaled in it. Pulling it out, he irritably rolled his shoulders as he reached into his coat pocket for a Blood Vial. Yharnam was said to be the home of blood ministration, and successive infusions were more potent which caused Cyril to become a heavy user back during that fateful night…

Still, the blood had a price and Cyril had eventually paid for it. The Hunter shook his head ruefully as he looked at the red filled vial. Savagery was the price for such miracles, he had learned. If the carpet of mangled bodies he had left behind in the streets was indicative of that lesson, then he was a perfect example of why the secrets of Yharnam had to remain buried.

Jamming it into his thigh, Cyril felt the sacred blood do its holy work. His wounds and, strangely enough, his clothes began to repair themselves. It was something he never questioned, how or why it worked would always remain a complete mystery to him but he was not about to complain about some good fortunes. Cyril had calmed down but as he turned back, he shuddered at the trail of carnage he left behind. The Hunter looked around again, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was out of the slums at least but…

He may have taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was supposed to be heading eastward, towards the gate and then… Cyril shook his head, he leaned against the wall. He had lost himself. Again. The bloodlust was getting worse, and he was not going to afford continuing to do so. Cyril looked at his left hand, seeing it tremble was troubling. The Hunter clenched his fist trying to stop himself from trembling. He was tired, he knew that but he still had a long way to go before he could rest his head. That meant that he had work to do.

"I should have left while I had the chance." Cyril said to himself bitterly. Gripping his Saw Cleaver tight, he was aware of how distant the battlegrounds were. Loading a fresh cartridge into his firearm, Cyril holstered it and continued heading to the eastern part of the city. As far as he knew, that was his goal because that was where the mapmaker with the wagon was. If the guy wasn't there then it wasn't his problem, he'd just take the wagon and leave.

If not… then he'd make his own way out of the city.

Cyril continued his advance out of the city, avoiding men and monsters alike. The Hunter had also learned some stealth during his time in Yharnam. Some fights you just didn't want to get into and landing the first blow on an unaware enemy was often key to winning hard fights. Sure backstabbing and underhanded tactics made you look like a complete and utter bastard to more honorable folk but really who the hell was complaining? Cyril had fought and killed more than his fair share of Hunters in Yharnam that way, and the guilt would remain for the rest of his unnatural life.

But it was only fair for him to resort to pragmatism because his opponents were doing the same thing. Everyone wanted to survive. Nobody wanted to die, and Cyril understood that quite well. He just tried and made sure not to make every death he caused personal.

The rattle of gravel alerted him. Cyril stopped walking and turned his head to the side.

"Come out." He said in a low growl. "Before I find you."

"… Master Cyril?"

The Hunter blinked in surprise as Sasha Fullmoon revealed herself, her white robes covered in soot. Beside her were a group of children, monster and human. Cyril clenched his fist tightly as Sasha's eyes widened at the dried blood that covered the Hunter's form and the demented, gory weapon he was carrying in his hand.

"What happened to you?" Sasha whispered in fright.

"I was attacked." Cyril replied coldly. "And I responded in kind. Most of the blood isn't mine." Idly, he wondered if she was going to ask any more stupid questions but was interrupted by the child at Sasha's side.

"Miss Sasha, stay back!" The Salamander at Sasha's side waved her wooden sword at him as she stepped forward. "He's a… a killer!" And said child was, of course, a monster.

Cyril stared her down grimly until she lowered her wooden sword. "So I am." He muttered in a bitter tone that he kept to himself. The Hunter looked at Sasha, who was covered in ash and soot. She seemed… in shock, as if something bad had happened to her. Cyril noted that there were only a small group of children behind her, a far cry from the filled church that was once her orphanage.

"I should ask what happened… but I guess it wasn't anything good." Cyril stated stoically.

Sasha looked at him. "The Inquisition burned down my orphanage so I was forced to defend myself." She said softly. "And I am now considered a heretic to the Order." Her voice had turned brittle and numb. "I didn't save all of the children under my care. Lisia and Emiyu were taken by the monsters. Elt went to rescue them, but I don't think he will meet us. Or come back whole from his rescue attempt."

She shivered. "My life, and my achievements, were all worthless in the end." She told him blankly.

Cyril scowled at her. "Now what are you going to do?" He asked icily. "Are you going to stay here and burn with what you have left? Because I am leaving." The Hunter stepped past her.

"Then can I come with you?"

Cyril stopped. He should have just kept walking, and left her there to whatever fate had in store for her. As far as anyone knew this was her fault for raising monster children in Order territory. The monsters would have done anything to her, or the Inquisition would at last take its revenge on a heretic hiding in their midst.

He should have left her there, but he hesitated. He knew why. The man he used to be was still there, inside him. It was this human voice, long before he had entered the city of Yharnam, that told him to stop. That asked him what in the hell he was thinking leaving a woman and the orphans under her care behind in a city under siege.

Cyril hated himself for listening to it. But he was right. Because if he just outright left Sasha and those children there to die, then he would lose everything that he thought kept him human.

Tell 'em about this ol' Oedon Chapel will you, good Hunter? Anyone who's willing to shelter here can be safe! I'd really appreciate that.

Cyril felt a smile grow on his face as he remembered the blind, deformed yet utterly kind creature that had offered him a brief respite from the Hunt. It was a shame that the man had ended up dying in Yharnam. He didn't deserve that fate and neither did the people he failed to rescue from the horrors of that one fateful night.

Especially Arianna. He wondered what she would have thought of him had he decided to leave Sasha… but no matter. She was gone now, just like Adella, the Doll… He would never see them again and all he had were their memories. Memories that he swore to do good by. Memories that he had nearly forgotten in his deep hatred of this world.

"Fine." He said, causing Sasha to look up at him in surprise. "But if anyone lags behind, they stay here and take their chances." He turned to look at Sasha, his gaze sharp but not unkind. "So keep up if you all don't want to die here."

Sasha took a deep breath. She nodded at him. "We're all ready to go. Ember, gather the others." She state resolutely. "Thank you."

"… We're not out of the city yet, Miss Sasha. Thank me if we make it out of here alive."

All Sasha had been able to rescue from the orphanage were the Weresheep twins Mina and Tina, a young man about Ember's age, Aran, and Ember the Salamander herself. Just a small group of young souls that she was responsible for. Sasha swore to herself that she was not going to let anything else happen to them ever again.

She may not have been able to hear the voice of the Chief God anymore but she was still a veteran hero and a healer. Sasha did not have the formidable sword and sorcery skills of many heroes but she still had her own tricks up her sleeve. The simple staff she carried was indicative of that. She may have been a healer but she would fight as hard as any seasoned knight to protect what she had left. She was no longer a Hero of the Order, but that did not mean that she could not do good for those who suffered in their name.

Aran held Mina's hand while Ember had Tina carried piggy back style. Aran was a lot more cowardly than Ember and his bangs often covered his eyes but he was a good boy at heart. When he saw the Hunter he had nearly passed out from fear. The intimidating man just took stock of who he was escorting, muttered dejectedly to himself and waved them forward with his empty hand. The demented Saw weapon that he carried was still caked in gore.

Sasha was honestly surprised that Cyril had agreed to taking them along. The former priestess was even more surprised that Cyril hadn't killed her then and there. Then again, he didn't know her involvement in the Fall of Lescatie. She had been the one passing information to the Monster forces and she wondered if that agent she spoke to was still in the city.

Then she realized that it would probably best if she didn't meet with her at all.

Sasha sighed as she saw the devastation all around her and kept walking. Her home wasn't her home anymore, it was another battleground filled with grief and she knew the enemy were both men and monsters. Sasha was not about to let anyone take away the children she still had left. And it seemed that Cyril had the same idea even if he was clearly reluctant about taking her in with them.

As she followed the Hunter, she noted the massive sword strapped to his back partially wrapped in bandages. Sasha did not know that Cyril was a swordsman, but the feeling she got from the weapon… it was as if it was…

Alive. Somehow, Sasha could feel the sword's intelligence, it was a vast mysterious thing and she could hear it whispering, if Cyril made any sign of hearing the weapon talking to him he did not show it to her. He was very private and she knew that he would keep something like that a secret from everyone. Sasha looked down. She was curious about her savior, sure, but she knew how much of a bad idea it was to rile him up by asking too many questions. A glimpse behind the mask would surely do terrible things to her sanity if she were to try and get too close to Cyril the Hunter.

"What do you mean she slipped way!?"

Seras Mariana Brusilov was not impressed with the way the two witches were looking down at their feet as they reported the Kunoichi missing. The Vampire's expression was thunderous when compared to Greilia's who was simply worried about her patient. Natsume was supposed to be in the healer's tent getting ready to leave for Greilia's Sabbath, the main headquarters that was in Royal Makai the seat of the Demon Lord herself. But she had escaped, and for what reason nobody knew. It had pissed Seras off mightily and Greilia could see that it was taking everything in Seras's power not to cut off a certain pair of witches' heads.

Ursula's Fourth Company was in the city proper, their spears and shields keeping the Order forces at bay while Druella and her entourage took the castle by storm. Already the other companies were marauding their way towards the castle and hordes of monsters descended upon Lescatie itself.

"I… we were checking on our other patients and we had made sure that the restraints were tight." One witch stammered as Seras locked her baleful eyes onto the diminutive woman's frame.

"And they were, but she… she must have cut them…" The second witch spoke up feebly as Seras glared at her in turn. "I-I'm sorry… we… we made a stupid, rookie mistake…"

"She may have been mentally unfit for duty but she is still a Kunoichi." Seras finally said, rubbing her forehead to ward off the incoming headache. "Damn it, Natsume…"

Greilia heard the fear and desperation in her voice and that made the Baphomet sad. Seras was losing it and because of the Elder Banshee's earlier warnings, she had not been sleeping well. Seras knew that prophecy was imprecise but that… thing had said that she would lose her daughter this night. Now… Now she was about to lose another. Natsume had come into Fina's world as an initiate shinobi who dreamed of becoming one of the greatest, and both girls had become fast friends.

For Seras, who had taken in Fina and had raised her as her own, it had been a joyous occasion to see the two of them work and grow together. In a short time, Seras had considered Natsume her daughter as well. Those were such happy times, and now she was close to losing them both. All because of Ursula's pride. Well, she had another thing coming if she thought that Seras was just going to stay here. She was a Brusilov and the Brusilov Clan never backed down if someone they loved was in danger. Seras was not going to lose both daughters this night.

Seras's fists clenched repeatedly as she tried to calm herself down. "I'm going to have to come up there myself to drag the both of them to safety." She said coldly. Leaning a hand on her sword hilt, Seras marched into the city ignoring the questions from Ursula's troops. She could honestly care less about following orders right now, if Ursula wasn't happy with her decisions then tough shit.

She could find another damned healer to push around. She was done with Ursula and her ilk for endangering her daughters.

Greilia, having seen the icy rage that surrounded her pupil, followed after her uncertainly. While Seras was obviously a master swordswoman, she was a healer of prodigal skill. Greilia was hoping that nothing untoward was going to happen but she was well prepared for the inevitability of combat. She had been there during those dark days, of course. When monster and man slew each other during the reign of the monstrous Demon lords that demanded the subjugation and destruction of humanity.

"Well, well… We meet at last."

Sasha held her staff in both hands, grimly, as she saw the group of high rank monsters in their path. The High Orc smiled as she beheld the Good Hunter who had folded his cleaver. He then reached for the sword hilt on his back.

"The name's Daria Noharis, I lead the 2nd Company." The High Orc smirked as her single eye gleamed in anticipation. "You, Hunter, are my prey. Come with me and maybe I will allow you to also keep that woman by your side as a pet."

Cyril Sutherland responded by leaning his greatsword on his shoulder. His eyes burned red underneath his hat. Above them, the clouds cleared up as the pale moon hung serenely in the night sky. A breeze blew and for a few moments the world seemed to hold its breath. Daria's smile faded into a frown as the Hunter brought his sword forward.

The sword was glowing, blue light dancing across its blade. The bandages fell off as Cyril smiled underneath his bandanna. He could hear its voice, a curious thing asking if there was going to be a Hunt.

"Yes." He said, seemingly to no one in particular. The sword glowed harshly, a pale blue moonlight that echoed the full moon above. "Another hunt has begun, and I know I am not worthy to wield you. But I have responsibility for other lives this night and I would require your guidance if just for a little while."

Cyril widened his stance, eyes crimson and sword glowing as he readied himself for another slaughter in the making. Daria barked out a command as her soldiers formed up. He felt his eldritch blood sing in his veins as he let go of the few fetters that remained to him.

"Tonight, Cyril Sutherland joins the Hunt."

With a bitter laugh Cyril swung his sword down, a beam of shadowy moonlight flying into Daria Noharis's second company veterans. The light wave vaporized several of Daria's finest warriors, such was their destruction that their mana was completely annihilated. The Second Company Captain charged at the Hunter who blocked her axe with his sword.

Never before had someone so brazenly challenged her, Daria was going to teach this man a lesson. The Hunter pushed her back with surprising agility and started swinging at her. Daria dodged the glowing sword, feeling its biting cold. One hit and she would join the rest of her men. Two of her orcs charged at the Hunter from the side, the man simply cutting them in half with a single swing. Still spinning, the Hunter aimed his blow at Daria's midriff. She ducked then promptly kicked the Hunter sideways, managing to launch him a few feet to the right. Rolling to a stop the Hunter got up from his knees, holding his sword.

His red eyed glare caused Daria to stand still in shock and growing fear as he stood tall after a few moments. The Hunter readied his sword again for another strike, a thrust. Daria backed away barking out a warning to her troops to stay away from the charging Hunter. This was her fight and she felt the heavy burden of the monsters who had just died under her command.

Another pair of orcs had just died, utterly destroyed by the sword in the Hunter's hands. The Hunter's advance was implacable as he slaughtered his way through his enemy. Daria gripped her axe tight wincing at the carnage.

She charged again, meeting the Hunter head on.

Druella stopped, eyes widening as she looked to the moon. Never before had she felt such a fell power before. Druella stepped out onto the balcony of her recently conquered castle and looked to where that strength was coming from.

"Stay here." She told Kuroferuru as she took to the sky. She did not hear the protests of her favorite Black Goat.

As she flew towards the source of power, she felt a shiver go down her spine.