Ostrava walked in silence beside Alvira. Though, it wasn't the sort of comfortable silence they typically shared; no, this was something else entirely. Disquiet. He could see it in the way Alvira's shoulders slouched; how her head hung low, directing her eyes to the floor whereas before, she'd always be looking onward. Something was broken now, and Ostrava couldn't find the words he needed to piece her back together.

And so, they simply were.

They exited the tower and navigated the slim staircase carefully, and briefly, Ostrava was allowed to feel some relief. That was, until their journey was brought to a rather precipitous halt.

They were suspended upon a high platform with no more paths to take. A brazier illuminated the small, treacherous space, but its light was easily consumed by the void that lay just beyond. Ostrava dared a peek over the ledge and found that there was nothing for him to see.

"Are you lost, little lambs?"

Ostrava jumped with a high-pitched yelp at the sound of the voice's deep, rumbling baritone. Alvira grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to safety before he undoubtedly flailed his way off the edge in a fit of spastic fear.

They heard a disbelieving scoff from the same direction the voice had come. "How you are not already dead confounds me."

Alvira tracked the man's voice through the darkness, and while the light provided by the brazier was not subpar, the man still easily melded into the black surrounding him, as if he were one with it. He hung precariously in a small, iron cage that was affixed by a thin chain to the bottom of one of the higher walkways. Despite this, he seemed unconcerned, reclining against the bars with his arms crossed over the breastplate of his sleek, black armor; and though his eyes could not be seen, Alvira knew he was studying them.

"Who are you?"

"Does it matter?" the man retorted.

"It does," Alvira supplied, matching the man's monotone.

The man tilted his head to the side in a subtle display of curiosity. Then, he held out a hand as if in offering. "I am a demon slayer. Like you."

"How do you know what I am?"

The man used his outstretched palm to point a clawed finger at the Binding peaking from her boot. "We are allies, it would seem."

Alvira only stared at the man, an inexplicable feeling of hesitancy dwarfing her. He stared back, hand still resting palm-up, a proposal. Alvira didn't need to hear him speak to know what he wanted of her.

"If I release you, what do I gain in exchange?" she finally asked.

And for the first time in several minutes, Ostrava deigned to interject. "Alvira," he derided, albeit discreetly. "He is a demon slayer, too. Why are you-?"

"I'll co-operate with you," the man interrupted. "After all, we're here for the same reason."

Alvira clenched her fists. They were struggling to get through Latria, and now, they'd reached a dead end. It was possible the man had knowledge of things that she didn't. Furthermore, having a helping hand to fight the demon awaiting them would help her to ensure Ostrava's survival.

"Very well," Alvira conceded. "Where's the key?"

The man's head rolled back along with his eyes. "Not here, obviously. I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more unconventional."

Alvira sighed, but ultimately decided to cast off the man's bad attitude. "Watch yourself," she advised as she braced her halberd.

"Stupid woman," she heard the man mutter. He stayed in his current, relaxed position, and Alvira rolled her eyes in turn before striking the lock with a burst of raw strength.

The door blew open as the cage went swinging, propelled fiercely by the force of impact. When it came back around to pass them by, it was noticeably empty.

Did he-

"-fall?" Ostrava finished, iterating Alvira's thought aloud and peering off the edge with her.

"Hardly."

This time, they both flinched at the sound of the man's voice, now directly behind them. When had he-?

"Let's go," the man commanded curtly. Alvira and Ostrava only captured a seldom glimpse of the man's full figure before he snuffed the fire in the brazier out.

But neither of them could voice their protests as the familiar shrills and wingbeats of several gargoyles invaded their ears. Ostrava screamed and Alvira grunted as they tried to knock the beasts back.

"Just let it happen," the man said, almost boredly as the gargoyles lifted him into the sky before diving off the platform.

"Is he mad?" Ostrava shrieked as he batted a gargoyle uselessly with his elbow. The creature snarled and grabbed the offending limb to hold him at bay.

But Alvira was gone, too.

And though Ostrava was forced to take the plunge with his companions, he did so ungracefully, hollering profanities as he careened hopelessly downward.

Alvira watched the black-armored man warily, never exposing her back to him. Regardless of his claims to be a demon slayer, something seemed amiss. He twirled his sickle in-between his fingers nonchalantly, utterly unbothered as he stood in an oscillating sea of blood, as if he had been here a thousand times before.

Though when Ostrava's cries were within earshot, she momentarily forgot the man and looked up.

"Unhand me, you damned-" Ostrava was shouting, and like they were heeding of his demand, the gargoyles dropped him inelegantly into the ruddy pool. They seemed to snicker as they soared away, leaving him splashing about in the thick, red substance for his dear life; but before Ostrava could scream once more, their new friend had him by the throat, restricting his airway.

"Quiet, fool," the man growled lowly as he raised Ostrava to his feet, somehow more foreboding than when he spoke at full volume. Alvira moved to intervene, but the man released him first.

Then the man walked away, beckoning them to follow with his finger before the shadows nearly swallowed him whole. Ostrava rubbed his throat, already feeling a bruise beginning to form due to the man's harsh grip.

"Barbarian," he murmured as Alvira took his hand. Grasping her talisman, she sent a pulse of divine energy through her fingers that traveled up Ostrava's arm, eventually settling into the aching ring around his Adam's apple. Suddenly, the black-armored man stopped walking, glancing over his shoulder to appraise them.

Alvira eyed him suspiciously. "What?"

"Making sure you're keeping up," he replied in that same, emotionless tone before continuing forward. Somehow, even as he walked, the man didn't make a sound.

"I do not trust him," Ostrava whispered.

"Keep your eyes on him, always," she instructed. Ostrava only nodded his head, letting her know he'd heard her.

The trio spent the forthcoming moments in awkward silence, somehow even more distressing than it had been before. The only noise was the sloshing of two sets of armored feet through the viscous, decaying blood they'd become mired in. It all seemed endless, and Ostrava felt unease creeping up his neck the longer they walked.

And just as he started to lose focus, the man disappeared.

A throaty, in-human groan followed in the wake of his absence, and Ostrava felt Alvira go rigid beside him. Then, he returned, standing on a dock with what first looked to be a giant centipede, until Ostrava saw the unmistakably human face of the creature. He felt nausea clamp his stomach as he rooted in place, Alvira making her best attempt to console him.

An aggravated tsk was the man's answer to Ostrava's blatant lack of bravado as he carried on, the threat that he would leave them behind clear if they didn't pick up the pace. Alvira lead Ostrava up onto the dock, and he closed his eyes as they stepped around the corpse laying curled at their feet.

Can humans truly become demons?

Ostrava shuddered at that thought. Surely, that was false. It made no sense. The Old One created demons.

And yet, as he gazed more and more into the faces of the things left behind by their new friend's merciless blade, he became less sure.

Better not to ponder it any longer.

In truth, it didn't matter if the demons here were once human; they were demons now, and thus, needed to be slain. Yet, the foundation on which he had built his convictions had become unstable in the face of this new possibility.

Still, he allowed himself to be led like the lamb the man had first accused him of being.

Alvira now walked ahead of him, her eyes undoubtedly glued to the man's back as he exited the docks and began to scale a tall, steep hill that stretched to meet another tower.

By then, Ostrava was exhausted with the constant climbing. He hauled himself slowly up the hill, the two demon slayers having long since reached the top. The unnamed man's hands found his hips, and he tossed his head to the side to exhibit his growing impatience. Alvira glared at him out the side of her visor.

"Shall I carry you next time, princess?" the man spat as Ostrava crested the hill, and something in that question belied another threat if the way he spoke that last word was any indication. The glint in his barely revealed eyes confirmed Ostrava's fear when he lurched his head to face him. The man's eyes morphed into amused half-moons upon witnessing Ostrava's visceral reaction to his taunts.

Did he know?

However, Alvira reciprocated by reaching for her halberd and clutching the handle, letting it be known that she, too, was running low on patience. The amusement faded from the man's eyes to be replaced by cold indifference.

"Ostrava," Alvira hailed, holding out her hand for him take. She clasped him strongly, pulling him the rest of the way up the hill, all while her eyes remained bolted to the man's retreating figure.

He was walking slowly enough that they easily caught up to him. Now they stood at the entrance to the tower, met by another long, winding staircase. The muscles in Ostrava's already-aching legs throbbed even more at the implication, and he groaned.

The man sneered rudely at him, and then turned to begin his ascension of the tower. Still holding on to him, Alvira sent more of her energy into him, easing the tension in his tired limbs, but failing to quell his growing panic. Yet, Ostrava thanked her wordlessly by squeezing her palm, and together, they scurried after their moody companion.

As they climbed higher, the relative calm was once more overtaken as Ostrava's pulse began to surge in his ear. He grimaced, trying to shake the sound out of his head altogether, though it only got louder with each stair they took. Beside him, Alvira seemed equally unnerved.

"We're almost to the top," Alvira soothed as Ostrava began to quiver with anxiety. The beats were getting faster, and he felt that his heart would soon break through the cavity of his chest if this didn't end. He stopped moving, clutching Alvira's hand so tightly that he swore he could hear the bones creak under the pressure.

"I cannot take this," Ostrava started to babble, voice rising with every word. "I cannot take this. We have to leave. Alvira; Alvira, please, we must-"

And then came a bang, followed by the jangling of a chain; then, a loud crash and the violent quaking of the earth beneath their feet that sent Ostrava sprawling to the floor, screaming, and clutching his ears. Alvira reeled around frantically, realizing that she had taken her eyes off the man to comfort Ostrava.

He was gone.

But it was possible that he was still nearby.

"Ostrava, we have to go," Alvira pleaded, though Ostrava was too hysterical to hear her. Resigned, she grabbed Ostrava by the arms and threw the armored knight over her shoulder like he was a mere child, where he fell unconscious. Alvira pounded up the staircase to be met by the corpses of more soul-starved men encircling a darkening brazier.

"Hn. Guess he did need to be carried after all."

Alvira's halberd was drawn quickly, and she responded to the man's words with a practiced swipe to his head, but he was out of sight before she felt the blow connect. Then, his sickle was encasing her throat.

"Do you wish to die so soon?" the man whispered against the back of her neck, and even through her armor, Alvira could feel the frost of his breath, provoking a terrible shiver. He held her wrist back with equal fortitude to her own, pressing until she had no choice but to drop her weapon. Despite this, Alvira smiled.

"You know you can't kill me."

But this only seemed to delight the man, and he chuckled, placing a dagger against the base of Ostrava's skull. Alvira felt dread's icy fingers caressing her spine, and she went completely motionless as her body became numb.

"I am on your side," the man continued, though he only pushed the dagger underneath Ostrava's collar. "But the next time you bear your weapon against me, he will be dead. Understood?"

Alvira offered him a barely perceptible nod, but it was enough. He was away from her just as swiftly as he'd come. By then, gargoyles were beginning to swarm the tower. They latched their claws onto the black-armored man first, dragging him into the sky, and Alvira snatched her weapon before she felt herself being lifted as well. She held steadfast to Ostrava's slumbering body, safeguarding him from the man just as much as she did from falling.

The gargoyles took them above the clouds, and only then did a grand, ornate tower come into view. It was built of pristine white marble, and like the church below, its colorful, stained-glass windows emanated rainbow-hued light from within. A long, narrow bridge connected to the tower, though a gap indicated that it had been rived from the other side, making entry impossible (that is, unless you had flying escorts). In the center of the bridge was a spacious, circular terrace, replete with burning brazier. Uncharacteristically from their previous treatment, the gargoyles set the three knights down upon the bridge gently before dispersing in a rapid flurry.

The man stood with his back to Alvira, seeming more like a shadow in spite of the light. He was looking at her out the corner of his eye, waiting. "Wake him up," he groused, then turning away to approach the brazier. Alvira continued to scrutinize him, even as she attempted unsuccessfully to nudge Ostrava awake.

"Ostrava," she tried lightly, shaking his shoulder. When that failed, she became a bit more firm. "Ostrava!"

And then, like all the others before it, the fire within the brazier was smothered, the man evaporating with the lingering smoke. Ostrava was pried roughly from Alvira's shoulder, and she grabbed for him automatically, but he was stood upon his feet beside her and then delivered a powerful smack to the head.

Ostrava groaned loudly as he teetered back and forth, the sudden, potent ache already spreading behind his eyes. The man shoved past them, nearly knocking Ostrava to the floor, though Alvira caught him.

"You could do with learning some efficiency," the man drawled, and Alvira considered raising her weapon once more as her temper flickered, though she decided against it in the end. It was better not to gamble Ostrava's safety for the sake of her wounded ego; so, she followed behind him, pulling a groggy Ostrava with her, to the center of the platform.

And with a flourish of wings and a mighty roar, they were beset by the biggest gargoyle they had seen yet. The Maneater glided past them, puncturing Alvira's breastplate with its claws as it flung her into the brazier. She cried out as its nails nicked her flesh, but it pulled away just before it was struck by a savage stroke of the black-armored knight's sickle.

The massive stone gargoyle's yellow-glowing eyes immediately changed targets, and it bowled heavily towards the man; though, just before it reached him, he vanished. The demon released a confused squall, whipping around dazedly before it found a new mark: Ostrava.

Ostrava held up his shield and backed away, knowing full well that he had no chance against something like this. But the gargoyle stalked after him slowly, almost playfully, before it reared to its full ten-foot height and flapped its wings, sending Ostrava flying just as much as itself. A puddle of blood was left in its place, along with an enormous, writhing snake. Ostrava screamed as the snake lunged at him, folding behind his shield. When nothing else happened for several seconds, he dared to open his eyes, now looking up into the man's armored face as he crushed the snake's head beneath his boot. Though he said nothing, Ostrava could feel the judgment wafting from him. Ostrava only answered with a nervous laugh.

The exchange was short lived as the Maneater made a flying pass at the man, only for him to be gone once more. Ostrava whimpered as the wind pushed him aside, leaving him level with the snake. It was plainly dead, but to make sure, Ostrava poked its head with his sword. It made a fleshy, gurgling sound as the tip of his blade poked through, and he winced, disgusted.

Meanwhile, Alvira had rejoined the fight, slugging her halberd against the gargoyle's skull repeatedly with surprisingly notable effect. The beast's head had begun to fracture, and it bellowed, enraged, as the weapon affixed itself within the fissure upon its forehead. It thrashed about manically, scratching at her and ripping silver-plated bits of her armor away as its claws scoured over her before it managed to push her off.

Alvira, thrown off-balance, fell beneath the demon's heavy hands as it bit at her, tearing the rest of her upper armor away with its teeth. When her skin was exposed, it crouched for another bite, intent on making a meal of her. Alvira tried reaching for her halberd, protruding from the beast's forehead, but it was barely too far. It growled in her face, snapping its jaws by her throat and choking her with its rancid breath. The beast continued to growl as she wheezed.

That growl switched to a piercing shriek as one of the demon's wings was shorn from its body. It tried to take flight anyway, to get away from whatever had wounded it so severely. Alvira used the opening to wrench her halberd free from the demon's skull, pulling several large chunks of rubble with her. The creature's eyes turned dim, though it wasn't yet dead.

It fumbled awkwardly against her, and Alvira tried futilely to kick the beast away as it frenzied above her. More armor was peeled from her flesh as its claws swooped against her, and soon, she started to feel the signs of too much blood lost.

The image of the demon obscured, and each kick became weaker as more of her blood poured onto the pavement. It had lacerated an artery, so she knew the time remaining in her physical body had run out; but she would fight until death once more claimed her, and then beyond that.

Ostrava's voice wrung around her as his plated feet crashed against stone. He leapt at the demon, aiming a wild bash of his shield against its weakened head. The shield warped as it collided, but it proved to be enough: the demon went abruptly passive as its head crumbled, its cumbersome body falling to trample Alvira's dying form.

"Shit!" Ostrava breathed, clambering to pull her out from beneath the several-ton gargoyle. Her hand became limp in his, and he seethed that he had once again failed to protect her, even though he'd promised he would this time.

"She's not actually dead," the mundane tone of their newfound companion said from beside him, and in the stead of rationality, Ostrava swung at him. In the next moment, the knight was on his back, struggling to wrest control from the stronger man sitting atop him.

"You two are more trouble than you're worth," the man sighed as he snapped Ostrava's arm at the elbow, rending his sword hand useless. "Did I not owe the woman a debt, I'd have left the both of you rotting in that lake."

"Get off of me!" Ostrava screeched as he bucked and squirmed, but the man simply cradled his head against one of his knuckles, using the other hand to force Ostrava's arms above his head. He screamed as searing pain bloomed in his broken limb.

Then, the man's weight was gone as Alvira's halberd swept through the empty air where he had just been. Ostrava scrambled to rise, narrowly avoiding decapitation as the man's sickle bore down on his neck.

"I warned you," the man said, his calmness mocking. "Now, he dies."

And then, Ostrava felt the sharp kiss of a blade shearing through his abdomen.

He collapsed, his cries choked off as blood congested his throat. Alvira shouted his name, but already he was becoming dizzy and weak. And while the blood coating his body was warm, he had never felt colder.

The man laughed, the sound wavering in Ostrava's ears. Then, another demonic squeal eclipsed his voice.

Two.

There were two.

Ostrava knew now with absolute certainty that this place would become his grave.

He had failed in every conceivable way, and this was his last failure.

He closed his eyes, not that he could see anyway, and ceded to his fate.

"Ostrava!" Alvira wailed, but her arms were held down as she reached for him. She wriggled against the man's stronger hold to no avail.

"I was going to kill you, too," the man confided, effortlessly holding her down. "But you're still too useful."

Alvira jerked her head back, but the man caught it before she could knock their skulls together. He tutted at her condescendingly, like a father scolding his unruly child. Then, she was yanked to a stand and thrown in the direction of the advancing Maneater.

"Take care of that, will you?" the man's voice echoed from nowhere. "And while you're at it, kill the rest of the demons for us, too."

The twin Maneater charged as Alvira fought for her footing, until she was brought to the ground yet again. Its tail coiled around her, wrapping her bodiless soul in a leathery cocoon as its hungry eyes inspected her. The mindless beast began to drool, its acidic saliva burning holes in her already ruined armor. Then, it clamped its fanged jaws around her neck and pulled, and Alvira became disoriented with the loss. Her head lolled back weakly as she felt herself fading.

But her eyes fell upon Ostrava, and she knew she couldn't give up yet. Her talisman vibrated as if in urgency against her, and she took it in hand, channeling God's power…

… and released a force so great that the demon, in lieu of its considerable weight, was pitched backwards as if it weighed nothing at all.

The demon bayed in anger of its interrupted snack, sailing back with just as much speed. It hit a wall of air as Alvira called upon God's power again, tumbling to the floor as its upper body cracked against the collision. It mewled as an arm separated from its shoulder, breaking against the pavement.

While the demon was indisposed, Alvira rushed forward, jamming the spear-tip of her halberd into its chest. Its loud wails bounced off the walls of the ivory tower beyond, and Alvira knew that had she not been in soul form, her ears would be bleeding.

The crater in the beast's chest grew wider as more stone fell away, revealing the empty core beneath. It hissed when she tried to approach again, using its great wings to push her back as its serpentine tail slithered up its back, fangs drawn, and poised to thrust.

But instead of aiming its venomous bite at her, it latched on to the back of the gargoyle's skull. The demon loosed a strident moan, clawing at the side of its face as it fell to its knees. Alvira looked on in astonishment. Was the tail a demon all on its own? Had it killed the Maneater in hopes of consuming its soul?

But as she continued to watch, the answer soon became apparent.

The demon's eyes flashed from dull yellow to macabre white, and a lurid glow shawled its otherwise dark form. Their gazes locked, and demon and slayer clashed in the air.

Alvira used Force to again fend the beast off, but the demon rushed through the shockwave, grappling her to its chest and launching them both into the sky. Alvira worked her arm free of its single remaining claw, and with every single ounce of strength she carried within her soul, punched the hole in its chest, causing it to deepen. The Maneater spasmed in the air, its flight path becoming crooked as it hurtled into the ivory tower. It caught itself at the last possible second, using the hook-like talons on its feet to leverage against the marbled surface and ricochet to the bridge below.

It slammed Alvira into the concrete with all of its bodyweight, but she no longer had a frame with which to break. Unphased, the demon slayer called upon Force to lift the Maneater from herself. It took flight, looping around the tower to gain momentum as it barreled into her again. Alvira sought to push it back, but the demon was too fast; it sent her tottering backwards across the bridge, and she tried to remain upright, but she stumbled, and the demon pounced upon her.

It lashed out at her with all its fury, talons digging into her legs to keep her pinned as its single hand rent through armor and soul alike. It hacked and sliced at her, its nails digging through her soul like it would through meat and bone. She aimed another punch at the demon's chest, but it was blocked by its large forearm. The fading sensation became stronger as the Maneater literally took her apart by the seams.

But she couldn't let Ostrava die.

With an indomitable heave, Alvira lobbed the demon from her. Its wings seized the wind, but this time, as it made to grab her once more, it shattered into thousands of pieces of debris and dust as it blasted against an unbreakable air wall.

Alvira wasted no time. She sheltered against the cascade of falling stone with barely plated arms upon reflex as she dashed to Ostrava, laying in an ever-growing pond of sanguine. He was unresponsive as she called out his name, and she wished she could thumb for his pulse, but that was trivial without her body. She couldn't even compress the wound like this, weightless as she was. So, she grasped for her talisman, feeling its heat beneath her fingertips as she started to pray.

Yet, as she continued her prayer, the talisman's strength waned.

"No…"

She saw flashes of her father in Ostrava's very same position, laid upon his back, paralyzed, pouring blood from his middle as a priestess chanted above their heads.

"No… no, God, please don't…"

The heat began to ebb until the talisman turned lukewarm.

"No, God, please; don't take him, too!"

The warmth melted away, and soon, she could no longer feel the talisman at all. She cried out tearlessly, trying harder and harder to funnel His energy into Ostrava, but it wouldn't come. She couldn't even sense Him anymore.

"Don't go," Alvira begged, discarding the talisman inside a tattered pocket as she searched for her tiny shard of archstone. "Don't leave me. I'll save you, just hang on; please, just hang on…"

She invoked the power of the stone in her hand, and the darkness of Latria gave way to the more subdued darkness of the Nexus.

Author's note: And finally, one of my favorite, and grossly underutilized, characters makes his appearance! And rest assured, I will be fixing that second fact.

My reasoning for having the gargoyles transporting the party around is twofold: 1. to save time (who wants to read about them all looping around the level and walking it a second time? Not me), and 2. to give them some characterization. The lore of Latria is that its citizens were experimented upon to create the deformed monstrosities they appear to be in the game. They are allowed to keep their souls (albeit twisted, and only for the sake of empowering them), but they adhere to a hierarchy. The gargoyles specifically serve the superior Maneaters, and if the Maneaters are hungry, they deliver them food. Hence, why the demon-slaying trio is carted all around Latria seemingly for free.

And yes, Alvira is indeed using Force. I know this spell didn't exist until Dark Souls, but considering it's a vastly inferior version of Wrath of God, I felt justified including it since Demon's Souls miracle roster is extremely lacking (especially before you unlock Saint Urbain).

Still, this chapter turned out to be a struggle for me to write. I had to work through a lot of writer's block, and I feel like it may not be one of my best. If you agree, I apologize for the reduced quality. I tried.