This chapter is very late and shorter than usual, I apologize.
Simple reason, my hand that I thought was healed since it didn't hurt anymore, wasn't. Generalized infection (reason why I was not in pain anymore), reinforced surveillance every two days, medication and painkillers, a hell of a period.
With the resumption of classes, work, the difficulties of a bandaged and unusable hand have completely prevented me from touching any of my stories.
So, I thank NoY who accepted, once again, to help me write.
The next chapter will not be published before three weeks (supposed time of recovery), it could go to four weeks.
Answers to readers' questions will be at the end of the chapter.
In the meantime, I don't bother you any longer, I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Chapter 11 : New Way to Hunt.
Always staying focused so as not to be taken by surprise was a basic survival skill in Yhar-nam and one of the causes of death for many hunters. From the most experienced to the simple rookie, reflexes, patience and above all reflection were the absolute basis of any fight in the ancient ghost town.
But, in the case of the dungeon, it was difficult for the hunter to keep his attention when most of the monsters had the intelligence and dangerousness of a sheep.
In a fit of violence brought on by ever-increasing boredom, Ashton hurled his cutter and slashed a minotaur's throat.
The battered bull tried to crawl away, but the hunter's boot landed on the monster's back and it turned its head to see its attacker. The barrel of the pistol landed slowly on the head of the beast, whose dilated pupils seemed to seek help that would never come.
His lowly task accomplished; the hunter continued to advance further upstairs. He hoped to reach the twentieth floor before he returned.
For no apparent reason, he stopped. Standing like a stake in the middle of the hallway, Ashton could feel the familiar hint of blood in the distance. It was not that of a monster, that acidity, that pronounced taste of rotten meat sliding into his nostrils, everything pointed to a heavy wound.
His hunter's instincts, extinguished by their uselessness, had just returned in full. Instead of his usual cleaver-saw, Ashton put his hand on his sword.
Like a shadow, stealthily passing along the walls, he moved toward the source.
"You shouldn't have tried to defend yourself."
Ashton, camouflaged in the shadows, examined the situation.
A young man, barely thirteen years old, was cowering against the wall. His hands were on his head for protection and his legs were curled up in front of him to take the brunt of the attacks.
Three men and a woman stood in front of him, their weapons glowing with a bloody hue, enhanced by the subdued glow of the crystals hanging on the walls.
Walking with light steps, the hunter passed behind the men, busier knocking the youngster to the ground than checking around. There, on the ground, abandoned, two corpses lay on the hard floor of the dungeon.
The hunter approached and examined the lifeless bodies in more detail. The first, a woman, had a cut on her throat, the one who had inflicted the wound had cut the jugular quite badly, causing a painful and agonizingly slow death.
Seeing the puddle of blood surrounding the corpse and the hands covered in a red color now turning brown, she had tried to stop the bleeding but had failed.
The second body was different, a similar gash ran along the top of the man's chain mail rib but seemed to have missed its fatal grip. From the width of the corridor, the three arrows in his back indicated that he had been ambushed.
His position showed that he had tried to defend himself and his teammate but had ultimately failed under the sudden attack that tore the front of his leather armour. One of his hatchets was in his hand. But before he died, he had managed to take out one of his assailants, the second was still stuck in the skull of another woman two meters away.
The third body was the archer. Nothing special to say, she had simply failed to avoid the incoming projectile. Her death had not been sweet either, her open, empty eyes still showed the terror of death.
"There's hardly anything in their bag!" spat one of the men further back.
The situation was clear enough for the hunter. A group of bandits had been waiting in a more secluded part of the floor and had been waiting for a team to pass by to sneak up on them and rob them.
Ashton's usually stoic face twisted into a furious grimace. He gently slid his sword into his hand and pulled his scarf completely up over his face, leaving only his eyes visible.
Not a sound, not a noise, only his form could be discerned from the shadows of the dungeon.
His hunter's name, Silent Walker, had not been usurped or given as a joke. It was his way of taking down his targets, cleanly, quietly, and without giving them time to fight back. In a face-to-face fight, Ashton knew with certainty that he would have no chance of coming out completely unscathed.
Four people, even weak ones, were more than enough to inflict injury on him. Ashton had always been ineffective when facing more than two enemies at a time. His habit of hunting individual targets played a large part in this, as did his lack of explosive or area weaponry.
Bad memories of Yharnam came back to him for half a second. Here, however, the four would certainly be a challenge.
He went behind their backs. Calmly, he pointed his sword, positioning himself to the left.
The man furthest to the right felt a cold current run through his back. He tried to speak, but felt a warmth creeping up his throat. A long metal blade protruded from the base of his neck.
"Rark!" he barely managed to say before the blade came out, severing his vocal cords.
"What is he..."
The second man to turn around barely had time to see his comrade fall before Ashton closed the short distance between them and thrust his sword into his stomach.
"Look out!" roared the nearby bandit as he stopped kicking the youth to the ground and drew his short sword.
The woman pulled out a pair of knives, meaning that it had to be the assassin of the group. The one with the short sword lunged at Ashton, raising his weapon. The hunter's hand caught the leather outfit of the man he had impaled.
Still alive, he tried to struggle, but felt himself being lifted off the ground. Planting his foot in the ground, Ashton used his victim as a flesh shield. The sword, which was descending toward the young man's throat, contacted the bandit's body.
"Lars!" the man shouted, realizing that he had wounded his ally.
Still in shock, he didn't see the hunter's movement coming as he threw his living shield at his attacker. The woman who had tried to evade felt her senses screaming to move.
Her ability, Sense of Danger was in a panic.
"BANG!"
A hissing noise crisped in the air as Ashton had drawn his pistol. The bullet had pierced the woman's heart and she hiccupped in pain.
Calmly, he approached her, raised his sword, and began to recite the usual prayer that he had taken as his own the day he became a full-fledged hunter.
"You have made the choice to raise your weapon against your own kind for your own gain, may you find peace away from the torments of life."
The woman tried to beg but only met the cold, tired eyes of someone ac-complimenting her role.
"Clang!"
The judgment had fallen, no forgiveness, no second chances, all had been done, the sentry had struck, finishing, and releasing the wrongs done.
"Now there was only one," thought Ashton, remembering the last bandit still alive.
But he wouldn't have to do anything.
"No! Don't do it kid!" a terrified scream echoed behind him.
The young boy stood up. His cutting knife was stuck in the eye of the man on the ground. A convulsion escaped from the man who tried to struggle. The bandit's hand closed into a fist and fell on the wearer's face, causing the blade to fall a second time.
It was always the most reprehensible who asked for mercy before their death. Those who truly believed in their cause, the fanatics, never backed down from their values. They never doubted themselves in pursuing a great cause with the vilest of methods. This is how the Church of Healing worked. But the bandits, the humans who feel lower than that, feared death with every fiber of their being.
"Die! Die! Die!" he repeated as he brought his knife down again and again on the face of the ca-davre.
Blood covered his hands; his eyes were furious and tears threatened to escape every second.
The wearer stepped back and fell on his buttocks. His heavy, panicked breathing was quickly followed by groans and tears as he looked down at his hands. He grabbed his legs and put his head in his lap.
Ashton didn't know what to do, usually he didn't have to deal with victims who were already dead, and in the few cases where they survived, they were in good enough shape to handle themselves.
If he left the boy, he had no doubt he would die.
"Let's start by calming him down."
The boy, in a surprising act of survival got to his feet and threw his knife toward Ash-ton's leg, while trying to move away toward the wall. When he saw the hunter's covered face, he seemed to calm down slightly, recognizing the one who had killed his assailants.
"I-I'm sorry..." he said, keeping himself out of reach.
"What do you mean?" asked Ashton, putting his head to the side not seeming to understand.
"I-I didn't mean to attack you..."
The hunter's casual attitude worried the carrier even more.
"It's not a big deal," he said with a shrug. "I've survived far worse than a single knife thrown by an apprentice."
The bearer shuddered as he spoke with such a lack of interest.
"So. What is your name?"
"K-Karl." he replied, stammering.
"Good Karl." continued the Silent Walker. "I'm Ashton."
Ashton was replicating the methods the priests of the Church usually used to calm the infected. He had seen them in action before on the families of the victims of the Beast Plague.
"I know you're scared. But don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm here to help you."
The boy seemed to regain hope but was still wary.
"R-Really? Will you help me?"
Ashton nodded and moved even closer to him. The boy froze and closed his eyes, but instead of the pain he thought he was receiving, he felt a hand caressing his head.
He opened his eyes again and saw the hunter right in front of him.
"So, Karl, I'm not going to hurt you. I'll help you get back to the surface, but you have to trust me."
The boy hesitated, anyway, he knew he had only one option. He nodded and tried to get up before squealing in pain as he fell to the ground.
"You're hurt." the hunter simply told him as he bent down to his level. "Let me take a look."
Ashton wasn't a doctor or a physician or anything, but he had some medical knowledge. Ironically enough, this came from researching the best way to injure and disable a target as quickly as possible.
"Tell me if you're in pain," he said, pressing against the skin.
"Ouch!" let out Karl, hissing in pain.
"You dislocated your foot," he informed the boy. "Nothing serious. He fumbled, checking the condition of the bone more carefully before handing the boy a leather strap. "Tighten your teeth," he ordered, clamping the foot.
"CRACK!"
"HUMPF!"
Karl's scream was blocked by the leather strap between his teeth, tears had begun to flow from his eyes.
"It's going to be okay," Ashton reassured him in a soft voice.
He was not as skilled as the priests, but it seemed to work. The boy grabbed the hunter's arm, squeezing it for reassurance.
"T-Thanks to save me..."
A strange warmth went through Ashton's body at these words. Did he feel... good?
The walk was peaceful, with the monsters not standing in their way, as the group made their way back to the surface. Some of the adventurers glanced at them as they left the dungeon, watching them pass.
None dared to get too close to the dark figure walking towards the exit.
A little later, the duo found themselves standing in front of the dungeon, they didn't know what to do with the kid and had to go to the guild to report what had happened.
"Ashton?" asked Eina as she saw him return with Karl, "What's going on?"
She looked at the young porter beside her and saw his dirty, bloody clothes.
"What happened?" she asked, her eyes darting between the hunter and the supporter.
"Some adventurers arrived... I don't have the whole story, but they killed the boy's teammates and were about to do the same to him."
The implication was obvious and simple about the fate of the rogues.
"Okay, please give me a moment." she said, trying desperately to keep her composure.
She left the room quickly. The other adventurers around looked at Ashton with a mixture of respect and uncertainty about what to do. The story of the adventurer who had defeated a level 6 had made the rounds of Orario and the question of who his god was remained.
Karl moved closer to the hunter, clasping his hand around Ashton's coat. His frightened eyes ran from right to left across the room.
It always surprised Ashton how the boy had gotten so close to him, considering him more trustworthy despite the murders he had just committed. Surprising enough, but not surprising either. He had seen people in Yharnam consider the Church of the Re-Medieval more worthy than their own family.
The human mind was complex sometimes...
"Come with me." asked Eina as she returned to the counter. "My superior wants to talk to you."
Ashton and Karl had been escorted by the half elf into a room on the side of the guild. An area separated from the common areas protected by several high-level spells and enchantments.
Three more people stood in the room as the two "adventurers" settled in.
Eina Tule, Rehmer, Eina's superior, a male chiantroph, and Hermes, a god.
Immediately, on spotting the last one, Ashton's stoic attitude became more cautious and colder. This did not go unnoticed by anyone.
The god's presence was required to verify their stories, and as much as he hated gods, he had to admit, being able to always tell when someone was lying was incredibly powerful, if not too powerful.
Fortunately for him, he was not affected by the divine tricks of this world.
Eina went to stand behind her superior as Ashton and Karl sat across from them.
"You know." interjected Hermes. "I can't get him to tell me the truth... Then what was the point of calling me?"
"To question the boy. We already know Ashton's abilities," Rehmer corrected. "So... Karl, is that it?"
The supporter, still holding Ashton's jacket like a lifeline, nodded hesitantly.
"Y-Yes."
"Can you tell us what happened?"
He looked up at the hunter, who encouraged him with a shake of his head.
"I... I was down with Mark and Lana. W-We had to get to the Rivera before dark and sleep there. They wanted to... show... Lord Apollo that they were good enough to stay in his Familia. Then..."
His breathing quickened; he began to tremble. Everyone expected him to burst into tears, until the hunter intervened.
"Calm down..." said Ashton, rubbing his head. "Take your time to talk. They're gone, everything's fine."
It was surprising to everyone else in the room, the hunter was usually direct in his inte-ractions to others. However, in front of the boy, he was surprisingly gentle and understanding.
Once he calmed down, Karl resumed his explanation.
"The bandits... They ambushed us. Mark and Lana... They fought but didn't succeed... Ashton, he came and killed them."
Hermes intervened.
"He killed them all?" he asked, staring at the boy.
The boy seemed to be seized by a supernatural force and his mouth opened automatically.
"No. I didn't kill one while he was down... He was getting up.
The hunter's eyebrows rose slightly. Obviously, he owed the boy thanks for saving him from a stupid injury, or at least a less than clean kill.
"What's going on now?" asked Ashton.
"Nothing," the chiantroph simply replied. "The people who were killed were killed in self-defense." He turned to Eina. "Can you take the boy back to his Familia and explain his situation.
The half elf nodded before moving closer to the boy still clinging to the hunter's coat.
"Go ahead," he said to Karl, "she won't do anything to you.
The boy hesitated for a moment and stood up before following the receptionist. Just before leaving, he turned to Ashton and said a single sentence.
"Thank you, Mister Ashton."
The hunter had a slight smile under his scarf, it was the second time he was thanked for a job, he could end up enjoying it.
"Mr. Warden," Rehmer said with embarrassment. "We thank you for the elimination of harmful elements from the guild. Unfortunately, in the absence of physical evidence as to the identity of the assailants, we cannot pay you."
The hunter of hunters raised his eyebrows before replying.
"I didn't expect to be paid so I don't mind." He stood up from his seat before walking towards the door. "If that's all you had to say to me, I'll get back to my business."
The guild leader nodded.
Only Hermes and Rehmer were left in the room.
"He is certainly strange."
"Certainly." replied Hermes with a smile. "Arriving from nowhere and having already attracted the attention of many gods and adventurers. It seems that someone even saw him with the Princess of Swords."
"Yes." replied the chiantroph absentmindedly. "They've borrowed a training ground for the whole week ahead." He realized that he had communicated a personal piece of information. "You haven't heard anything," he completed, turning completely to the God.
"Don't worry. I'm not the kind of person to embarrass youth for so little. Although it might be fun in the long run." laughed the God softly with a vicious smile.
Rehmer sighed, he had known the god of thieves long enough to know what was coming. He had taken a liking to the hunter and would do whatever it took to find entertainment.
May he fail, so Ashton wouldn't have to be bored.
First murder of Ashton in Orario and the first experiments of ''hunting'' on human beings. A cruel return to reality that will not stop our hunter, but that reminds him that nothing is perfect.
Karl, a double-edged character for me, he will be important for the continuation of the story but will only really make sense much later (minor spoiler, he will be the opposite of Ashton).
Well, now that this has been clarified, let's move on to the readers' questions.
Some people were a little put off by the attitude of the powder kegs in the last chapter (the way they talk and behave). I can understand, but this is my interpretation of their way of being (the younger ones at least). Whimsical characters, a bit crazy around the edges and totally out of step with Yharnam and his way of being. It's as if they kept hope in their madness through a particular brotherhood.
Some people were a little put off by the attitude of the powder kegs in the last chapter (the way they talk and behave). I can understand, but this is my interpretation of their way of being (the younger ones at least). Whimsical characters, a bit crazy around the edges and totally out of step with Yharnam and his way of being. It's as if they kept hope in their madness through a particular brotherhood. It will happen, one day... I hope...
No, on a serious note, I should be tackling chapter one soon. NoY has already started to help me with it if all goes well in a week or two.
Until the next chapter, like every time, take care of yourself and your family!