Hello everyone! This is AnthosW.
Before reading this story, I would like to warn you that English is not my first language, so if there are any mistakes, errors with my grammar, feel free to let me know about it, I'll fix them.
I will upload every two weeks until I exhaust my reserves, so look forward to that, but anyway enjoy the fic.
This chapter has been corrected.
A huge thank to HaMCRI for greatly helping me correct the errors in this chapter, go see his profile. He also writes fanfiction.
Prologue :
The pale moonlight shone brightly on the field of white flowers; they were the only witnesses to a duel between two individuals. The blows exchanged between the two warriors were swift and vicious. Neither side seemed to be trying to seek an honourable fight.
The horribly serrated cleaver in the hands of the disciple struck true, managing to break through the guard of the first hunter, by going under the scythe, old hunter was using, crimson blood spurting from the wound, staining the white flowers on the ground in a bloody mess.
The wounded old hunter released a pained grunt, and spun his weapon in an attempt to retaliate, using the momentum of his scythe, he managed to slash his opponent's chest, sending both warriors staggering across the field.
Blood oozed from the open wound, the hunter had difficulty standing and used his cleaver like a cane, he could occasionally meet Gehrman's eyes through his greying hair, grim determination was the only thing he 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 he could throw at him, despite everything, the young hunter saw eternal distress in the poor old man's eyes. He knew the truth, he knew that it was all a game and that it was all over for him, another one will take his place.
The hunter knew when a fight was lost, after all, he had been in hundreds of battles, many of them were a loss, this was most certainly one of them, and he knew the feeling of not being able to accomplish anything and dying in pain. He had the pleasure of discovering all of this the hard way.
But, some part of him believed in victory, because, 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 will spell the end for him, it's his last chance to save at least one person from this horrible dream.
A vial of blood pierced the young hunter's thigh. The brief, intrusive pain was eclipsed by the old blood that quickly spread throughout the hunter's body, once again closing the aching wound on his chest in an instant.
"That's nineteen," the old hunter squeaked out.
"Only one more vial."
The first hunter bent his knees before jumping into the air, rapidly decreasing the distance between the two warriors. Despite his age, his strength had not been diminished. The young hunter rolled back quickly, causing Gehrman's scythe to find only the air as it missed its target. Hastily, the young hunter moved to engage Gehrman, who with a mechanical click, separated the blade from the shank of his scythe. The shorter blade swung for the young hunter's head, who ducked under the blow, and tried to slice the old man's side with his cleaver, but he struck nothing, his blade causing a harsh whooshing sound…
He tried to back away in panic, only for his face to meet the old hunter's foot, staggering him, he barely managed to avoid getting cut apart by the scythe that followed the kick afterwards.
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 stomped 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, leaned away from the cleaver that was rapidly approaching, and closely avoid the attack as it would've cut off his head, the young hunter would've pressed this advantage, but was forced to dive to the right, to avoid the heavy blow of the modified blunderbuss, wielded by Gehrman.
The blunderbuss roared as more projectiles followed, filling the air with the smell of gunpowder, forcing the young hunter to retreat from Gehrman. Taking advantage of the space gained, the first hunter quickly retrieved his weapon just in time to block a powerful swing the young hunter sent his way. The smooth blade creaked against the wild teeth of the serrated 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 for their pistol.
The young hunter's smaller pistol wins the race.
The quicksilver bullet tore through the air, scoring a hit on Gehrman's hip, blood flying everywhere as the old hunter lost his balance.
Young hunter quickly sheathed his gun, and he gladly took the advantage, plunging his arm into the vulnerable old man's chest.
A wet crackle escaped the mouth of the first hunter. With a superhuman heave, the young hunter pulled his arm away, tearing off a handful of bloodied, mangled flesh. A cascade of blood flying everywhere,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 wound he received, a bloody cough escaped him and stained his hunter's outfit. The pale moonlight increased in intensity, the glow covering Gehrman's form in a beaming flash. The light shone bright enough to force the young hunter's eyes to close, before the energy exploded out of Gehrman in a wave of white energy, sending the young 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 unknown power radiated all over his body, disturbing the stagnant air in the Hunter's dream.
Gehrman took a step forward and then in a blur, he disappeared from the younger hunter's sight, faster than his eyes can follow, only the finely honed instincts of constant ambushes in the merciless streets of Yharnam allowed the young hunter to dodge under the horizontal slice, rolling fast, the young hunter only just managed to gain a lick of distance before Gehrman was upon him again, swinging his weapon in deadly arcs, the young hunter was forced to dodge, but even with all of his desperate attempts at avoiding old man's onslaught, the long-range weapon still managed to score several long cuts through the poor hunter's leather and cloth suit, few more trails 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, much 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 to the side; he was able to parry the attacks of the first hunter with difficulty, sometimes deliberately taking wounds necessary to stop the more fatal ones.
Many deaths he suffered through in Yharnam had taught him not to fear spilling his own blood if it gave a path to victory.
Maybe he perhaps got used to the pain.
The blade danced with the scythe. Steel met steel. The young hunter managed to create an opening in the guard of the first hunter, it was just what he needed.
He threw himself forward, with his weapon aimed at Gehrman's open neck. But the first hunter simply had more experience, the hardened veteran wasn't going down this easily, the old man raised his gun, parried the attack, and retaliated, the young hunter did not have a chance to step back, before he felt the steel penetrate his leg.
A gasping, pained breath escaped the young hunter's mouth, as the old man sent another kick to his chest, pulling the air from his lungs, the young hunter landed on his back, not giving the fallen hunter any time to pull himself up, Gehrman threw his scythe as if it were a pickaxe. The young hunter twisted his body, barely avoiding the scythe.
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 only way he saw himself surviving this, he had to block the old man's attack with everything he had.
Scythe connected with the blade...
...The hilt of the sword fell from the young 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, the young hunter let out a growl of pain.
His arm had become the scabbard of the dangerous blade.
The hunter tried to grab his sword, desperately kick the first hunter off him, but to no avail.
"Why?" Gehrman muttered,
"Why persist, when you have nothing to gain, why fight Hunter?"
The young hunter ponders the old man's words, while catching his breath.
"I... just... I 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 fresh blood would come along, a similar yet 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 what's left of his life. 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, 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.
Before this nightmare ends, he wants to at least rescue someone. He didn't care what price he had to pay, let him end this damned downward spiral of madness and death. May his mind finally find some semblance of peace.
"Hunters do not save the others, we clean up the situation after it becomes a nightmare."
A pained 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..."
Ashton continued in a mumble.
"What is it?"
In a quick movement, the apprentice threw his free fist, clenched full of dirt at the face of the first hunter, Gehrman in his shock quickly threw himself away from the young hunter, tearing his scythe with his arm, young hunter quickly got up and 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 old 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 his spleen.
Taking advantage of the young man's useless right hand, Gehrman returned the favour. Grabbing the younger hunter's head, he snapped his thumb into the hunter's eye. The pressure quickly caused the eyeball to burst.
The hunter howled in agony, the old man's advantage grew with his opponent's loss of balance, Gehrman pushed his student away from his chest, and quickly slammed his fist to the young man's stomach, while closing his other arm around the hunter's throat.
The hunter struggled as he slowly choked. No matter how hard Ashton 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 only could respond with weak attempts. Due to the position they are in, his legs didn't have any space to gain any moment to do any real damage, he was stuck.
" No ! no… "
It was getting harder and harder to think… difficult to see… Tears formed on the side of his missing eye.
"I have to win! ... Please... anyone ... anything ... a devil, an angel ... Kos ... Oedon ... 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 young hunter's body fell to the ground in a puddle of bright red liquid. He managed to look up one last time to see the first hunter lay his scythe on his neck.
"You must accept your death, it has come for you... Free yourself 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 his body. A faint hope blossomed as the real prospect of being free of the terrible dream made its way into his tired mind.
"Gehrman."
The name was like poison on his tongue. Killing the warmth of the sun, discoloring the grass, withering the flowers, and stealing all desire for a future away from dreams.
Far from the sun. Saving him will not erase the dream. But at least he will be free. At least ... He managed to help someone. The hunter felt the fall grow faster, an intense light choking him, forcing him to close his eyes.
Then... Like this was all madness of his mind, the light faded. Engulfed in darkness and the hoarse groans of creatures around him. It seemed that the fall was a metaphor for his life in Yharnam.
He felt his back hit a hard surface...
Was this death?
He didn't know.. He opened his eyes and became enraged before he calmed down. His whole body was covered in cold sweat. He took another deep breath to calm himself.
"Clear your mind, take the time to think."
He calmed his mind and resumed a more professional attitude, calming himself down. It was never good to panic when you didn't know your position.
He frowned slightly at the strange sensation.
"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?"
After a pause, he thought;
"I… I am no longer in the dream…"
This thought made his heart skip a beat and speed up as he opened his eye..
He realized that his damaged right eye had returned.
All his senses, smell, hearing, touch, taste, and sight were there, fully intact. Heavy tears rolled down his cheeks for the first time since the hunt began. He had failed... Once again... He could've saved all their lives. But… He was too weak.
He had trouble remembering when he first arrived in Yharnam. But, he remembered the time before he joined the dream. He had to learn fast, adapt and had grown to see some of the older hunters as father and mentor figures who he missed terribly now.
"George..." he muttered, thinking about one hunter in particular.
He closed his eyes and chased his thoughts away, he had to go back...
"No..." He muttered, denial setting in.
He had failed. He could never return to the dream again...
But... Something within, tells him to return to Yharnam, to find a way to right his wrongs... He knew others were still stuck in the dream. He picked up his last vial of blood and injected it to himself before getting up.
His whole body was screaming at him to rest, but his mind was beckoning him to get ready.
The Hunter looked around with weary eyes.
"Analyze the situation. "
He was in a sort of cave, probably very deep underground. The walls were covered with a kind of red stone dotted with black veining. They looked as if they had been burned, although they weren't dropping any ashes.
A loud noise echoed to his right, stomping, someone… Something is coming for him.
The Hunter hissed and grabbed the cleaver-saw that was attached to his back, getting himself into a fighting stance. A dark green dragon with a long snake-like body and four legs had appeared. its light-colored scales differed from where it was standing.
"What is that?" Hunter growled out.
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 indeed no longer in the dream, he was free. This made him accept his situation, fight he shall, as the hunter within him demands of him.
Slipping to the side, dodging the beast's swift attack, he ducked under its stomach and he carefully stabbed his blade into its neck, the blade avoiding the scales, where it's natural armor doesn't cover, causing the beast to roar.
The huge claw tried to crush him. It reminded him of the time he and other hunters had to face an Amygdala. No one had any idea what the Ancient One did outside of the nightmare, but they had tracked it for days before they caught it. They had suffered many casualties that day. In the end, they had won, forcing the beast back into the nightmare. That experience was his first real encounter with an Ancient. It would remain a vivid memory for the rest of his life.
In a way, he felt glad that he never got to see the blood moon and the world as it really was, even more so for having escaped the eternal hunt in the hunter's nightmare.
A sort of green smoke spread around the creature.
" Poison." Ashton noted, pulling his scarf up to his nose, to protect himself from the smell.
He had to kill it quickly… Instinctively, he dashed to get behind the creature, trying to confuse it. He highly doubted that the bullets could penetrate the beast's natural armor and he formulated a plan, the creature tried to turn around and skewer him with its claws, he easily dodged it's feeble attempts.
and the hunter climbed onto the beast's back. Raising his sword high, he brought his blade down, stabbing it's head, though it didn't penetrate too deep, it managed to make the beast bleed and roar loudly..
The hunter's quick and unorthodox strategy probably surprised the beast, because it had no time to react before he used his pistol, aimed straight at the wound on its head.
Another beastly roar escaped her before it 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 monster's remains. 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 items so simply, without any apparent consequences.
He picked goods up cautiously and examined them. What could he use it for? The beasts usually don't drop completely useless loot, 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 had enough knowledge to help him.
He put his spoils in his backpack, then 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 by the beasts. A hoarse growl escaped his lips as more creatures emerged from the nearby tunnels.
One of them had some sort of black armour, similar to obsidian, and a skeletal creature decided to circle him. 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 then 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!