Like every chapter, let's go over the reminders. I am not English and only speak it as a second language, so there may be mistakes. Feel free to tell me about them in PM, I will correct them and try to avoid them afterwards.
I will talk at the end of the chapter about my choice when it comes to Aiz and Ryuu, I invite you to read the footnotes for my decision.
This chapter has been a non-stop race to write because of my return to work and the preparation of my return to the faculty. Added to this is a work-related hand injury that prevents me from moving three of my fingers and limits my writing and translation time.
Do not expect a clean and error-free work for this chapter. I'll take the time to pick it up later when the situation is less... on fire.
Enjoy your reading.
Chapter 9 : Rift
In a very different place, in the middle of a plague-infested city, a tall man in a silvery-black outfit walked calmly forward. His armor looked paper thin as a bloody red cloak slid down his back to the ground. In his hand a thin florin-like blade oozed rich blood, the Reiterpallasch.
The man whistled a soft, soothing tune as a creature crept up behind him. In a simple, bored gesture - as if he were swatting away an annoying fly - he flipped his weapon, engaging the pistol fused to the blade.
A gargle escaped from the shadow as the ripped form of a human with canine features fell to the ground.
"Boring..." the man muttered. "A Knight of Cainhurst, reduced to cleaning up the small fry of this city."
He looked off into the distance, his eyes seeming to pierce the mist that ran through the streets.
"My queen... I'll come soon to deliver you from those damned ignorant executioners."
He continued to whistle, gliding steadily through the streets, with a little amusement as he shot one of the monsters living in the slums.
"He chuckled, crushing the head of a crazed militiaman underfoot.
As he was about to continue his bloody way through the slums, he felt a pain in his back. He looked down and saw a blade protruding from where his heart should be.
"FUCK!" he spat contemptuously, turning around with all his strength, and ripping out the throat of one of the militiamen he thought he had killed earlier.
n the madness of his pain, the shaggy man had managed to get up silently and thrust his improvised blade into the knight of Cainhurst. Despite his missing vocal cords, the madman managed to let out a mocking laugh interspersed with the bloody coughing fits.
"The monster is dead! He's flayed like a pig!" he crooned in an unintelligible way before the Reiterpallasch faced his way in his head.
"I'm going to die like this?! What a disgrace to my queen!" he hissed, feeling his strength drain away.
Despite the bottle of blood drunk greedily, the gaping hole would not close and his heart was not beating. He was only postponing the inevitable return to the workshop by the uninterrupted consumption of vials and blood.
"TSS! Plebs unworthy of my presence! I do not even die of the hand of this foutus executioner of Alfred!"
The last threads of life vanished leaving him agar on the ground. Like all the other hunters, his body decomposed in the shadows.
As he stood up in the workshop, the heat hit his face.
"What's going on now?!"
As his gaze wandered around, his eyes widened as he saw the workshop he knew burning.
"Blood Hunter," Doll greeted as she walked in front of him.
"What happened?" asked the VilBlood Hunter.
"Gehrman is waiting for you in the back garden."
"Finneas." the first hunter spoke softly. "The time of your awakening has come. You must accept it."
"Don't you dare, you damned old man!" he spat as he tried to stand up.
He tried to articulate more words before he found himself choking on the blood filling his throat.
His legs had been shattered into a bloody pulp. The split shin was showing through the skin while his entire left forearm was missing.
The blade of the scythe rose to the sky.
"Son of a bitch!" he managed to blurt out, feeling his own vocal cords pop out of his throat.
The BloodHunter had only one final insult before his head fell, joining the countless others before him.
As the flames in the workshop died down, Doll called out to the old man, snapping him out of his silent torpor.
"The Good Hunter is coming. He has an umbilical cord with him."
"I see our liberator is doing his job," thought Gehrman as he took his place in the workshop.
"May you find peace away from the torments of shifting loyalties to your queen," muttered the old man as he looked at the new tomb that had already appeared in the garden. "Poor Finneas... A noble fool but so good to those he calls plebs..."
Doll placed flowers on the fresh grave marked with the name of a Cainhurst hunter.
"Gehrman. I have questions."
The familiar voice of the Good Hunter snapped him out of his reverie.
"I'll try to answer them."
The hunt continued for the moment. One of the older cogs had gone back and the new fragment was already taking its place.
"FUCK! GERHMAN!" roared a voice from the depths of the dungeon.
A second hunter had arrived.
Ashton stood back in his chair reading one of the countless books in the library. The gentle quiet of the room overcame the annoyance of the hunter who was forced to verify the information he had about the weapons of this world.
He had indeed found ancient traces of strange people carrying particular weapons, but none of them were recent. Most of them dated back to one or two centuries ago in the worst cases.
Hunters? Ashton seriously doubted it. What little written information remained in the old, abandoned registers and information books often described them in sandy, green military-style clothing or in other cases in so-called student outfits.
At least that was what it said. The hunter squinted his eyes and blew out his nose, not understanding where everything was connected. It was strange, most of the people in question claimed to come from a place called Japan or some other country that didn't exist on the maps.
But a century ago, for no good reason, most of them had stopped appearing. As if... a valve had been closed somehow.
The best explanation was probably that the dimensions had drifted apart and were no longer able to make contact. An interesting theory that connected well with some of the studies done at Byrgenwerth.
The concept of multi-dimensions was to be considered and explained his arrival. He was like them but from another dimension which Gerhman had sensed was nearby. This explained the reason for the presence of weapons like his and the lack of surprise of Loki and the gods at his existence.
He wasn't the first. And would be far from the last until the dimensions got so far apart that he couldn't get through...
A shiver ran down his spine as he grasped the meaning of his own words. If there was a rift or at least too much proximity between this world and his own, it meant that other hunters could get through, but also and especially some of the beasts of Yharnam. Or even more dramatically, an Elder.
Ashton did not doubt the power of the gods of this world who would be more than capable of defeating Amygdale or Odeon by unleashing their powers. But the worry was about the damage that would be done by such a fight and the consequences of the arrival of the Old Blood in this world.
Images replayed in his mind of the streets of Yharnam superimposed on that of Orario. Slowly, he lowered his head, seeing the ground covered with a red liquid staining his boots.
A deranged smile of terror and fear formed on his features as he began to hy-perventilate. Distant screams, the sound of bells followed by the psalms repeated incessantly by the church of the cure echoed in his head.
The acrylic smell of Yharnam reached his nostrils and white flashes of light blocked his view. His throat was dry, and he listened to his own voice repeated his oath without his control.
"We are the ones who took the hunter's oath. We are the sentinels rebuking those who have become entangled in blood. Whether man or beast we will grant rest to those who have lost sight of the purpose of the hunt. And when death comes, we will finally find the peace we have given. We are the ones... "
His religion and his hope for future change, no other thing but the insane will to stay alive to make amends for his mistakes, or at least to put over the eternal trail of ashes a cover so that he could no longer see it.
His stoic features grew stronger, becoming an unbreakable mask as the images and thoughts flowed. A deep, dark void, like the waters of the ocean stained with shadows.
If he saw a man-beast now, he would be sure to react violently, what little self-control and tolerance he had developed would vanish, replaced by the primal fear instilled by Yharnam.
"We are the ones who have taken the hunter's oath. We are the sentinels rebuking those who have become entangled in blood. Whether man or beast we will grant rest to those who have lost sight of the purpose of the hunt. And when death comes, we will finally find the peace we have given.
By dint of repeating his credo, he felt his mind calm down. Without knowing it, he had begun to laugh. No one could hear him in the library, so he could allow his memories to flow.
It choked him to keep them locked up, Orario's calm made it even harder to ca-cher the broken side of his personality.
A stoicism formed by doubts, fear, traumas allowed him to hold on. But sometimes, he had to dive a few minutes into his own madness to understand himself.
The hunter lay back in the chair completely, the marked smile hadn't left his lips as he continued to chuckle at his own stupidity.
The chances of such a thing happening were small at best but still present enough to worry him. A portal could open and release a hell that only he would know the extent of.
On the positive side, if he could consider it that way, he would be quickly warned in the case of a new arrival. There was little chance that there would be no waves of energy like during his landing in the dungeon.
Given the strength of the waves of magic that the portal had emitted upon his arrival, he was confident he could spot such a sudden change in the city.
No need to worry about that. But now it was important to know what might come out of the dungeon.
"I can't do anything anyway, and I can't predict... It's best to just stay alert," he said calmly, regaining full control.
The smile closed, returning to the face everyone knew him to have. The rare moments when he could release all the accumulated stress were vital to his sanity.
He nodded to the librarian before leaving.
For the past two days working on his new dimensional fad, he hadn't been down in the dungeon. Not a big concern since he still had enough money for a few weeks, but the hunter wanted to avoid slacking off. All of his acquired skills, techniques and reflexes would not go away at once but would tarnish if he did not maintain them. The hunters, as much as they wanted to avoid it, were creatures attracted by violence, blood and liked to fight in deadly battles where their limits were put to the test.
"It is only in the most intense fires that the most beautiful flames emerge," Ulrich OpenHeim kept saying.
A great hunter of the church of the cure fell before a hungry monster. The poor man was a typical example of death striking without warning, even the most powerful.
The second thing, which he had to admit was less vital, was to find other monsters like the Goliath that could allow him to evolve and become stronger.
The idea of not evolving, of stagnating and remaining weak disgusted Ashton. Maybe there were no dangerous people for him yet, but if an elder or the plague were to spread to Orario, he would have to be ready. And let's face it, the force was always interesting and useful for not being in the way.
If he put himself on a level scale as Orario seemed to do, he would be around level eight, maybe ten. The truth is, he doesn't know and was guessing based on his perception.
Aiz would be at level four, five or six. Well... Ashton couldn't remember... Did she tell him? God... His immediate memory was playing tricks on him.
Still, the guy, Bete was level six and worth the combat equivalent of a weakened Man Eater Bear. Having already killed, he could be above the monster so two or three more levels didn't seem like much.
"Not that I know what the levels are..." he thought.
Even after all the time spent in Orario the big question about levels remained. What was it? What did it correspond to? Why such a limitation?
This kind of moment reminded him of how much simpler Yharnam, even in all its madness, was in the end to understand. Fight, kill, purge and die before starting again, no great questioning of the meaning of his crusade against the beasts, just a simple and regular accomplishment of a job.
An innate automatism, born of necessity and a total absence of need of mind.
Speaking of work, without even realizing it, he had already passed the first six levels of the dungeon. The hunter no longer bothered to skin, gut and harvest the monsters he killed. It was simply too long and tedious to be worth his time.
A certain arrogance appeared for other adventurers, but a providential windfall for the most successful who felt their salary increase. Poor supporter, condemned to have to live the thankless role of harvesting quickly for so little gain...
Not that he had really inquired, but the rumors could only make him feel sorry for them.
In the meantime, Ashton had planned to reach the famous tree floor during this descent. He had only seen it from a distance and was interested in the people who would agree to live in such a dangerous place of their own free will.
What was his name... Rivira? Yes, that must be it. Rivira, the eighteenth floor considered a security point.
If you're going to come back later than usual, you might as well do it for a good reason. If the study was a good one.
Ashton stood at the entrance to the floor in question.
"Impressive." he muttered as he looked around.
Though the village was not imposing compared to the huge buildings he knew, the hunter still managed to recognize the human feat of establishing a city in the dungeon's underground.
It was beautiful in a different way. Humanity had literally managed to establish itself almost permanently in the heart of enemy territory. A finger raised at the monsters and the dungeon itself.
Ashton smiled soothingly, he didn't care about the stories told about the place, theft, corruption was finally the least of the words, and quite common in human history.
As his habit had taken him since the beginning of his exploration of the dungeon, he took out his notebook and the strange pen he had bought. He who was used to ink, it was a change to switch to this type of writing.
"Floor eighteen is different from all the others," he noted.
"Large forests and lakes cover the floor. In the forest are blue crystals of various sizes that reflect the light from above, so the forest is filled with a pale blue glow. This gives a strange atmosphere. Everything seems to be soothing and quiet.
The exceptionally high ceiling is filled with shiny crystals of two colors, white crystals in the center that look like the sun and blue crystals surrounding it that look like the sky. But, everything looks fake. No air, no clouds, no rain. The same beautiful sky all the time.
On the eastern side of the island facing the lake stands the town of Rivira . It is located 200 meters above the lake on a cliff. It is not huge but has a few hundred inhabitants spread over the whole area. Composed of large wooden houses surrounded by a palisade, it was created to be easily rebuilt in case of an attack.
It was interesting, but honestly, Ashton had not planned to stop there. Besides the time he would lose, he wanted to avoid hanging around in the dungeon any longer than necessary.
He always felt that heavy look on his back when he went in, the dungeon was alive and he felt it deep in his bones.
"I wondered how far his consciousness would go," he wondered.
Living places were something he knew existed but had never really lived. A fleeting joy as he considered the catacombs that ran beneath the ancient city of Yharnam. He knew the stories of the unfortunate ones who had gotten lost there and had been changed.
Their eyes were empty and their incomprehensible stammering of a distant language choked anyone who heard it. But probably the worst was their twig-like bodies showing their bones changing forever.
He shivered as he turned back. It had been a short, easy and smooth expedition that hadn't required much effort but had been beneficial to him.
Not physically, not even for knowledge, but mentally.
The idea that the Keep was letting adventurers move in gave him the simple information that Orario was gentle, a far cry from the wasteland of the ancient stone city he knew.
"Too gentle, even," Ashton thought.
This city made him calm, soothed him and partly stifled his survival instincts developed by the hunt. Unthinkable for a hunter.
"I'll have to work harder," he said to himself, thinking back to the fight with the modified Goliath.
It could be interesting to go in search of monsters like the boss. Or perhaps to try to return to the floor where he had been summoned. The two solutions were similar in their foundations and were interesting.
The important thing was not to lose the hand. In this sense, the prayers of the Healing Church were right: Impotence leads to the ruin of the soul and destroys salvation through the reduced vision of the world around him.
This world was different, of course, but even so, he had to continue to follow the different ways of Yharnam to keep the dignity and the right to bear the title of Hunter.
Aiz stood at the entrance of the Fertility Hostess. Her usually cold and blank face was marked with a slight trace of panic. When she had asked the waitresses where Ashton was, they had all had the same answer: Gone to the Keep.
Why wasn't he coming back? Had he decided to run away?
She couldn't imagine him falling in front of a monster.
In the dark street, a figure calmly appeared. Whistling a soft, soothing tune.
"Blood is our song... We don't need pity..."
When he saw her, he stopped in surprise. Then he passed his hand behind his hair before remembering the previous days.
"Um... Yes... It's true I told you to think about my proposal. So if you're here, I guess that's a yes."
The Sword Princess nodded her head with conviction. The hunter sighed before nodding his head.
"I was madly hoping you would refuse. Presumably, my moment of weakness will cost me a lot of trouble. Let's be honest, a hunter rarely goes back on his word, I offered to train you and I will." His voice grew colder. "But I don't intend to bother with someone who refuses to take advice or complains, so I expect a willingness to improve."
"I would!" she said with conviction.
"Good... I hope for your sake that this is true. If not, I wouldn't hesitate to let you off the hook."
As the noises inside the inn increased indicating that the bulk of the evening had begun, Ashton turned fully to Aiz.
"We'll start tomorrow at six. We'll meet at the same training ground as last time."
He didn't feel like talking knowing that a moment of weakness had stuck him in a workout.
"Thank you for agreeing..." she said simply.
The hunter was about to walk out the door when he heard her words and turned one last time seeing the sword princess looking at him.
"Don't thank me when I haven't done anything yet. But don't expect me to be easy. I told you I would train you and I will."
Her still blank face shifted for a slight second to concern before returning to her usual self. A simple grin on his face, which no one could see, but which meant much more than it seemed about the psyche of the hunter.
The mask had had its first crack, he felt something other than stress and fear, but the worry of failing.
Well... After three weeks of thinking about it, I made the decision to stay with an Ashton x Aiz story. Several reasons for this choice:
-The plan of this story was written to be an Ashton x Aiz, which would take me more time than I want to devote to rewrite everything, for an experimental result and far from satisfying me.
-Ryuu is a complex character, and it would take a lot of work to develop his relationship with Ashton, and it doesn't fit in the atmosphere I'm trying to create (Ryuu is a character who has already mourned his Familia, Ashton and Aiz haven't mourned their problems which makes them closer in personality).
-Then... Simpler, I don't like two pairing. What follows is my opinion as a reader and writer, so it's purely a personal opinion.
A monogam relationship is the basis of the writing, two characters developing in parallel, helping each other and evolving together in good and bad times.
In the case of the two pairing, this idea of evolution in group must be done with a romantic conflict to keep an interest of the additional difficulties, which makes it difficult and can sometimes turn in circles. Also, it is necessary that the relationship is of common agreement and remains clean between the two female characters (Ryuu and Aiz) and the male character (Ashton). What is problematic with my story, Ryuu and Aiz don't know each other and have no reason to leave their place.
Harem in my opinion is a better alternative but should not exceed three or four characters at most to keep it interesting and balanced (developing more characters and giving them their screen time is impossible).
So, this story will remain an Aiz x Ashton, because that's how it was created.
Take care and see you in next chapter.