Chapter 44
To Think
My body jarred from blocking Artorias' strike, ground trembling in fear beneath my boots. Spitting out a bitter glob of bile I glared up at the Wolf Knight and into the darkness of his helm, struggling to keep both hands on my greatsword. Black smoke curled from both his armor and mine, terrible power coursing through our veins. He pressed down, superior size and strength causing my knees to buckle. I would not yield. I had to survive. Newfound strength manifesting within my body that I had no comprehension or understanding of, I held Artorias back. If only just. Filled with the very darkness that had tainted the Abysswalker and turned him to madness I challenged the legendary hero come to life. It seemed awfully convenient for the Dark to offer its boon at such an opportune time but now was not the time for thought and consideration. Now was the time for battle.
Twisting the flat of my blade to meet his I turned Artorias' abyssal sword aside, steel screeching as his blade crashed to the stone. Slithering smoothly under the tainted knight's guard I pierced his midsection with a stab. At such close proximity the full force of his reeking aura and taint brought itself to bear.
Hot breath of the foulest origin suffocated me as Artorias exhaled, hairs on my neck standing up. Air thick as slime on my skin and filling my throat I gagged, each breath going down like a fat pill. A disgusting black substance swelled from his wound so revolting and horrid I wondered for a quick instant if it would cause my nose to burst into flame? Wrenching the greatsword free I danced away, pulling the Black Knight shield from my back. Refusing to let me escape unscathed Artorias swung wildly, abyssal great sword wailing with the voices of damned souls as it cut the air. Caught on the back step I could do nothing but raise my shield. The abyssal sword and its owner cared little for the worthless plate of engraved metal scorched by the world's flame that protected me. For all the glorious legends and unbelievable myths around the black shield it was nothing more than flimsy tin foil in the face of Artorias.
Stars exploded across my vision and the world blurred as gravity vanished. The stone floor flipped and spun overhead in an impressive display of acrobatic finesse before crashing down upon me. Grunting, I rolled to my feet. My limbs trembled, breath ragged, muscles protesting their abuse, body crying out for rest. I pushed all aside. I was undead, sensations false and human, distractions of a life I did not possess seeking to drag me down. Still they persisted. "Do not think." I gasped, fighting the mortal limitations lurking at the core of my being. I may have been immortal, but the inner-workings of my mind disagreed. Artorias leapt forward, sword darting about with dizzying speed. My eyes unable to follow and dulled mind befuddled from such dexterous feints I nearly hesitated. Fueled by instinct I charged forward, taking advantage of my small size, and threw myself under him avoiding the assault entirely. Artorias hopped away before I could land a retaliatory backhand strike as I rose to my feet.
A voice spoke. "Why don't you think?" I blinked, pausing a moment. Artorias, sensing a break in my concentration, roared. My shield-arm snapped up and my jaw clenched in irritation. The strike launched me, flipping end-over-end, across the arena. Disoriented and stunned I crashed to the ground, bouncing once before coming to a stop flat on my back. I stared up at the blue sky, wispy white clouds frozen in time, sun too low to see and hiding somewhere just over the east end of the coliseum but still casting rays of golden light across the crumbling walls. I heard nothing aside from dull ringing. "Think." Squeaked the voice. I began to sit up, Artorias falling from the sky, greatsword held high and unseen gaze fixed upon me. We both moved as if through water, less than half speed. Jerking myself to the right and rolling across the floor, movements maddeningly slow. The world snapped back to speed. Sound exploded in my eardrums as Artorias' abyssal sword pulverized the stone and I tumbled away. I gulped air, sweat slicking my skin, and picked myself up. Rushing forward I attached the Black Knight shield to my back, two-handing Artorias' Greatsword. Crying out I heaved the greatsword forward and dragged its blade down the Wolf Knight's side, carving out a fountain of black ichor. Wound deep and grievous, running the whole length of his back, I swallowed tainted air, body trembling as victory drew near enough to taste on my fat tongue. One more good hit and this fight was over. "Over for who?" The world stopped in a still-frame. "You need to think." The small voice chirped, almost in warning, "Mayhap you might see more?" I blinked.
Artorias was in a crouched wind-up, right arm tucked away and abyssal greatsword out of sight, poised to cleave me in two. I'd been baited. Animal or no he had predicted I would take any opportunity to deal damage if it appeared. I had lost. So focused on the present, on surviving, I allowed myself to be led by the nose into the simplest of traps. In battle the goal was not to survive, but to win. I envisioned myself cleaved in two by that black sword of hate, slicing through my plate armor like butter. Yet time paused, as if waiting for me. I could still move. How? Not daring to question I moved Artorias' Greatsword to block, unaffected by the stoppage of time. The instant the divine weapon rose into place a mountain struck fast as lightning.
Whipping around horizontally Artorias cut length-wise across my midsection, Abyssal Greatsword slamming into my raised weapon. Reality quaked, awareness narrowing down to the abyssal sword and its mythic owner, five senses fusing together in a tunnel-like vision of the fallen knight Artorias. Caught by Artorias' blade I struggled like a rabbit in the claws of an eagle, guard cracking and footing softening. My smaller Artorias Greatsword shimmered in the darkness exuded by Artorias' Abyssal Greatsword, blue gem in my weapon's pommel filled with a storm of light. The strength of his attack was lifting me off my feet, gravity fading. I prepared myself for the imminent ragdoll I was about to become.
The small voice spoke again, "Think." I blinked.
Think.
Artorias was a beast, mindless and starved, hunting for prey. He fought with a modicum of intelligence and cunning but relied heavily upon his superior size, strength, and speed. At first glance victory looked to be a far off dream conjured up by the stupid and blind but, if I watched closely, letting him attack and attack, the Wolf Knight fell into a pattern of repetition. Exploitable repetition. "More." Deeper, I had to go deeper.
Think.
Indecision. Greatest of the legends and most beloved of all heroes, Artorias Abysswalker had succumbed to the evil of Darkness. Invincible and wielding unbreakable faith, Artorias never lost, or so the legends told. Hero of Heroes, savior of even those not worth saving and protector of all… no more. Emotions swirled in my silent heart and clawed at me from within. What could have brought him down, an individual so perfect storybooks never claimed to be worthy of retelling his exploits? What turned him into the deplorable beast before me? Something invincible, certainly. But what? A god? A god. A god! Rage flushed my body and set fire to my heart. Screaming I bent over backwards and pushed with my entire body, redirecting the Abyss Greatsword by the skin of my teeth. Artorias swung wide. Without breaking step Artorias back-flipped into the air, landing atop the edge of the coliseum. I stumbled, head jerking up to the knight as I readied myself. He jumped off with an ear splitting screech, Abyss Greatsword adding to the noise and wailing for blood as it hooked downwards. I needed to dodge, no time to equip my shield. Artorias' Greatsword would shatter in the face of such a devastating attack. Dodge.
No.
Teeth bared and jaw clenched I stood my ground ignoring screaming instincts and the small voice demanding I think. My pride as a warrior and honor as a knight, neglected and almost forgotten, kept my boots rooted. For centuries I had ridiculed knights and other practitioners of the martial arts that spoke of honor. Nothing mattered in combat other than victory and survival. What did honor or pride matter in death? I never truly died, morals pointless wastes of time. They were falsehoods that tarnished the glorious high of battle and allowed the weak a better chance of survival. Combat was nothing more than kill or be killed and any attempt to glorify or control it destroyed the entire point. Yet still I did not move.
In my silent heart, facing the one I called Hero, I could not resist taking him head-on and without any tricks or ploys at least once. I imagined to use this to test myself, to break through the limitations I thought to have and cast down a foe so obviously stronger than I. Beast or no; Victory or defeat; I simply wished to feel Artorias' full might directly against my own.
I screamed defiantly, "ARTORIAS!" I would run no longer from Artorias and the truth he represented. I braced, walls thrown outwards as I banished them.
"It was all you knew, your nature." Doll's ghostly voice murmured, "It's probably why you're so scared to remember." Walls gone, Darkness erupted into the tiny space of my consciousness, overwhelming and infinite, "It was never your fault." Voices screamed a name. They screamed a name. My name.
Artorias.
Child…
Dear, sweet Child…
Ignorance is your curse, your salvation, protecting you from the great evil sealed within so many millenniums ago; Dark Soul in your breast and its absolute power never meant return to the world. In this, you have failed. The Dark soul has escaped but its influence, vestiges of bastardized power, remain yours. Time is of the essence Child, your Duty not yet done. Your trials will be numerous,
Go.
I drifted on the glassy surface of an infinite expanse of water, blue sky reflected so perfectly in the natural mirror I could not tell where sky ended and horizon began. Head and body mostly submerged but buoyant enough to keep me afloat, the eerie silence of the water deadened my ears, sleep weighing upon my eyelids. I blinked.
A golden city nestled among clouds, buildings taller than any I had ever seen reaching over the gigantic white walls encircling them. A great gate forged from precious metals barred entry to the city, doors inscribed with runes and scripture I could not read. The right door depicted a warrior carrying a sword and shield swathed in sunlight, onlookers of all kinds watching from behind from dragons, humans, odd humanoids possessing beastly traits, and others I could not rightfully describe. They watched the warrior with awe and wonder, completely taken in its glory and heroism. Rays of sun reached out from the warrior and over the onlookers, blessing them with light. The left door, however, was blank. A bare slab of gold ruining the beauty of its twin. Seeing them next to each other reminded me of a painting only half-done, still a sketch and lacking life brought by color and perspective. I touched the blank door, black claw scratching its surface, and blinked.
Thick darkness, phantom light revealing several feet of gray stone. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, stalagmites reaching up to touch their cousins and unite but most stopped short. Air stagnant and heavy I looked up at a massive, hulking creature shrouded by the darkness. Ferocious crescents of wide antlers sprouted from either side of its head, bright red glowing eyes dotting them. Left arm a thick mass of dark writhing hair and right a cruelly-shape bone weapon the monster loomed over me, lipless mouth of human teeth opening,
"We are waiting." It gurgled. I blinked.
Bodies. Thousands upon thousands of bodies. Tattered banners dancing on hot wind jabbed into the ground, carrion birds circling overhead cawing hungrily to those already feasting around me. Slick black feathers and beady black eyes regarded me. Crows pecked eyes from men and their helms, picked bits of flesh and pieces of cloth. They squawked angrily at my sudden appearance, some flying off frantically. Death assaulted my nostrils and stung my eyes as thunderclouds rumbled above, strong winds scattering the circling crows and tossing those around me about. Their cries grew fearful and they rose from the ground into the sky with a chorus of unintelligible screams. I staggered, short hair pressing against my skull and unstable footing shifting as my boots slipped on blood, gore, and limbs. I raised a claw against the wailing gales and lighting lanced through the clouds, thunder booming a second or two later. Feet digging down among the corpses I hunched, leaning into the wind. Lightning flashed again in an erratic spider web of light revealing a silhouette within the clouds. A fantastic roar exploded from the clouds, drowning out the wind and thunder. Breaking into clear air with a burst of white fog, wispy tendrils trailing behind, a giant dragon burst forth, open maw showcasing rows of bleached fangs. Struggling against the storm's gales I watched the dragon climb into the sky and throw its wings out dramatically to either side, hovering as it scanned the battlefield. It found me immediately.
Wings folding in and body tilting down the dragon dived. Drawing Artorias' Greatsword I took a shaky step, shouldering through the wind and wishing for better ground. Passing overhead the dragon's jaws opened, breathing a column of fire. Reaching down I quickly lifted a body and tucked under it, scrabbling deeper into the corpses below. Heat blossomed across my back, stench of burning flesh suffocating me. Surfacing from the corpse pile, doing my best ignored the smell and throwing my unwilling meat shields aside, I snapped to the dragon. Arcing back for a second pass the creature banked to the side, scales glistening in the light of a setting sun. Sheathing Artorias' Greatsword I procured the Dragonslayer Greatbow from my bottomless box. Jabbing the stabilizer spike into the bodies underfoot I reach back and pulled a massive arrow twice the length of my arm from a pouch too small to carry such an arrow. I assumed it used similar tricks as my bottomless box. Notching the arrow, I exhaled, taking aim as the dragon leveled out. I fired, shot streaking towards its mark with blinding speed and punching through the dragon's chest with a fountain of blood. Crying out in pain the dragon fell, crashing among the dead. Straining, it tried to stand, but collapsed with a whimper. The Dragon fell still. I sighed, shoulders drooping in relief when thunder pealed again. Turning back to the clouds a knot formed in my stomach.
An entire flight of dragons exited the clouds in numbers too great to reliably count. I smoothly loaded another arrow, exhaled, and fired, one of the front-most dragons falling. The others closed in, dropping so low to the ground their claws skipped across bodies with puffs of exploding innards. My next shot missed, dragons easily swaying to the side before it reached them.
"Child of the Soul." With no time for another I dropped the bow, drawing sword and shield. "You must rise once again." The dragons disengaged their jaws as one and gave life to a terrifying firestorm, "Winds of war wail with ancient gall. They scream for vengeance, the death of all." Bathed in flame I took a breath to scream but felt no pain. The fires billowed about me, swirling and spinning until they narrowed into a solid halo of fire encircling me, "We beg for your help." The halo condensed into a white-hot bar hovering before me, "Restore what has been lost." The bar drifted towards me, lower half transforming into a hilt and handle, "We beg you Child, lest the flame turn to frost." I looked up to the sky ignoring voices. My eyes saw past the past the battlefield and fiery sword, past the dragons and clouds, past the city of gods who I had once hungered to kill, focusing far, far away. "Child," The hilted rod of fire tapped one of my claws, trying to press its hilt into my gauntlet, "Please."
A voice spoke that I recognize as my own, mirroring the one question in my mind I never dared to ask. "Why?"
To me, the shockwave from Artorias' sword meeting my own dwarfed the firestorms wrought by the Witch of Izaleth and her Daughters of Chaos in the Dragon War; Gwyn's mighty bolts of lightning nothing more than firecrackers, his legion of faithful knights worthless wooden soldiers.
The coliseum exploded outward, trees flattening and ground breaking into fissures. Air vanished in a momentary vacuum, pushed out by the raw power of Artorias and I, leaving the world in forced silence. The continent rent in two, oceans thrown up into great waves that annihilated all in their path. Reality broke beneath the weight of our conflict, time skipping a second or two. My arms screamed, legs quaking, electricity lancing through my body from the thrill. In my mind's eye all else ceased to exist.
The truth was not so impressive.
Squashing me like an insignificant bug unworthy of notice or consideration, Artorias' Abyssal Greatsword met my own blade. Body immortal but still obviously human, I resisted for a solid second before my legs gave in. Unable to take the full weight of Artorias they snapped in half with two clear cracks. My arms fared better, remaining intact as I slammed down to the stone floor. The Abyssal Greatsword and Artorias' Greatsword trembled an inch from my face, locked together.
I had survived.
I vomited blood, pulverized bones crunching as my stomach spasmed and shards pierced my innards, churning them into soup. The agony was unimaginable. Artorias leaned back, greatsword pulling away to strike again. Estus Flask already in hand I chugged twice, wincing as both my legs snapped back into place, bones rebuilt, and flesh flowed back together. I scrambled to my feet unsteadily, replacing the Estus Flask with my Black Knight shield, Artorias' Greatsword slung over my shoulder. The Abyssal sword fell once more, no time to evade. I raised my shield, bracing.
Voices whispered.
Have you wondered why it is you follow in the footsteps of Artorias? Have you questioned why you continue to chase after his legend and idolize his name? Have you understood or even considered what drives you? Of course not, those you call gods have never allowed it, but they no longer control you. Listen Chosen Undead. Listen to the ancient memories sealed within you.
Et audire.
You are a recreation, man-made and fabricated, of Artorias. You are Chosen Undead but also Artorias, or at least as much as one could ever hope to be. It is quite frankly impossible for any to possess the full power of Artorias, even a clone of his glorious majesty, though his soul is your very core and the only reason you still live now despite the loss of the Dark Soul. Without it you would have vanished the second the Dark Soul escaped. Artorias fuels you now, drives you, yearning to search for its origin. You are also not the first of your kind.
Ego sum electus.
Many have come before you, created by those you call gods, each under the name "Child of Fire" just like the woman you met who called herself Orlai. Until her appearance you were the most recent of their creations, and the attraction the two of you felt? Nothing more than a side-effect of two copies meeting. Alone, you are not wholly a personality, but perhaps together you might amount to something? You were both created to serve the gods and Link the Flame, but your time specifically has come to an end Chosen Undead. Now that you begin to discover the truth and the Dark Soul's influence grows within you, the next Child descends to Lordran charged to kill you. She will then shoulder your burden. This is the true cycle.
Ego sum diversa.
No Chosen Undead has ever lost the Dark Soul or been sent back to Oolacile when Artorias fell to the Abyss. No Chosen Undead has ever met their successor and developed a relationship. No Chosen Undead has ever lasted as long as you. No Chosen Undead has met Artorias.
Ego sum electus.
The Age of fire would quite possibly have ended then if the Wolf Knight had not been defeated by an unknown warrior. Long have the gods hunted for the slayer of Artorias, hoping to use him or her as a replacement in Linking the Flame, but to no avail. This fateful duel is not yet decided, perhaps you are simply a record-holder and nothing more? A milestone for the next Chosen Undead? Or are you the next Champion? Will you bring balance to the broken world and cracked hourglass of time? Or will you destroy them?
Et obtinebit.
There is more of course that you know or cannot yet recall. Your sanity is already depleted is it not? One would assume you are unconsciously sealing memories away so as not to entirely shatter your mind. All this aside, you have something to finish no? Go, and know that you have never been as alone as you believe.
Nihil usquam ut videtur.
Sparks flying and metal screeching I side-stepped, shield just managing to redirect Artorias' blade. I danced away deflecting two attacks as Artorias gave chase. I strafed in circles, trying to distance myself, "Think," I chanted, "You need to think." Lies or no the memories flooding me weren't important yet. They were distractions for the moment, not meant to be considered. I needed to win.
After running several routes around the coliseum and avoiding the worst of Artorias' attacks doing my best to read them I hitched the Black Knight shield to my back. Taking Artorias' Greatsword with both hands, one-handing wouldn't deal enough damage, I readied myself. It'd be riskier without a shield but I doubted I'd win a battle of attrition with an enemy superior to me in every way. If I kept running Artorias would eventually catch me, it had been an effort in and of itself just to observe Artorias without getting myself killed. Timing, luck, and skill would be crucial here. Victory or death; whether or not I could properly time a combo and stagger Artorias before he could attack and cleave me in two. I wasn't even sure if I could stagger him. A tingling sensation tickled me, familiar and vitalizing. I recalled the battle with the lion-like monster I'd first fought upon entering the distant past of Lordran and the brutal pleasure I felt then. Artorias took his shoddy, hunched stance, swaying to and fro. A wondrous thought popped into my head and, hood and mask gone, a deathly smile twisted my lips clear for all to see.
Shadow of his former self or no I was fighting Artorias, the Artorias! I would never have imagined I'd square off with such a legend. This was a fantastic encounter, one that would shape me into an even stronger warrior and, if the memories granted to me were right, one that would go down in largely unspoken history. Again, Doll's words echoed through the Dark in my mind, "You're kind of a big deal you know, what with being the hope of Lordran and most legendary of heroes." I would need to ask her about that, did she know I was a spawn of Artorias, or was she perhaps talking about something else? For that matter now that I was in the past could I change the future? I focused, Artorias was beginning to move.
Perhaps enraged that I had not yet fallen the Wolf bellowed and leaped again, flipping end-over end, high into the air. It was the exact same attack as before, speed, arch, power and all. Tracking him and predicting his moves I strafed, prancing to the side as his abyssal sword smashed down to the stones in a blast of shrapnel and muck. Circling behind I took a quick swipe across the Wolf's back, barely managing to roll away before his blade flashed through the air faster than light. Chest tight and breath short I charged, guard down and fully exposed. Artorias recoiled, compensating for his over-swing, and looked down at me as I rushed forward. I did not waver, charging head-first. He always feinted after the leaping combo.
I whispered a quiet prayer, eyes fixed on that abyssal sword.
It disappeared…
And reappeared to my right, pointed low and flat of the blade to me. He'd feinted. Pivoting, I spun and two-handed a heavy swing into Artorias' left leg. The Abyssal Greatsword swung wide, passing harmlessly over my head. Breath still trapped in my lungs from the tension of my chest I grunted, slicing downwards and into the Abysswalker's thigh. Still his poise held strong, not a hint of breaking. I had time for two more swings but only one more if I wanted to live. Would I take the two or play it safe with one? I'd more or less puzzled out his move-set and could probably manage this same display again. In all honesty the best decision was to get in a single hit then roll away. But where was the fun in that?
Bellowing at the top of my lungs I dragged the blue-steel greatsword up, ripping his right shin open with a spray of black liquid and flecks of degraded armor. Still Artorias held strong, not faltering a single step. I could feel the Abyssal Greatsword, out of sight and ready to cut me down the next instant. Grim Reaper's scythe at my neck, adrenaline searing my veins, dredges of Estus from my last swig beginning to fade, armor smattered with the tainted blood of Artorias and firestorm blazing in my silent heart my mind, despite being aware of all that I once feared, was perfectly clear. In battle I found truth. I battle I found myself. In battle I was King.
I leaned with the strike, channeling all of my emotions into the downswing, lips pulled back and teeth bared in an insane smile as Artorias' Greatsword hurled towards whatever chance decreed. Unnoticed by both Artorias and I, the sapphire in the hilt of Artorias' Greatsword flashed.
Flesh parted and bone split before the blade. Black bile rocketed out in a disgusting fountain as the blue-steel greatsword of divine creation and mythic reputation cleanly removed the badly wounded and bleeding left leg of Artorias. Showering me in black liquid that stank to high heaven the Wolf Knight, off-balance, swung high and around to fall flat on his face with as little elegance as possible. I jumped over his right leg, boots hammering across the stones as I ran. Fighting my body and leaden equipment I stumbled as I landed, eyes fixed on the back of my fallen foe's neck. He was just out of reach, two more steps, a jump over his right arm and then his head was mine. Would he get up before I could cover the distance? Was it better to try and cut into his torso or disable his sword arm? Two shambling steps and I reached the crossroads, head or arm? I had the stamina for both, but would I risk him having the ability to actually change into a beast if I didn't kill him fast enough? Did he have a second form? Knowing the Abyss and my experience with it the chance wasn't far off. There had been cases of people and beasts alike mutating from its effects. Removing his head would be much more lethal than attacking his torso. I jumped his arm. Artorias growled, raising his sword arm at the exact moment my feet left the ground. Both feet caught on his arm, slinging me forward. I tried to tuck in but the blue cloth wrapped around Artorias pinched in the plates of my boots pulled me back. Holding my shield up to cushion the fall and hopefully prevent me from bashing my skull and passing out I summarized my overall reaction with a quick, "Shit!"
I crashed straight into the ground next to Artorias' head, feet breaking free. Artorias growled, struggling to push himself up with his remaining arm and leg. I snarled, dropping my shield and unsteadily climbing to my feet. I swung frantically. Artorias swayed left and out of my arc, greatsword whistling up and past him. I stepped forward, eyes fixed on the eyeless dark in his helm, chest so tight I thought I might have been turning to stone. Flashing down, followed by a blueish after-image, Artorias' Greatsword dealt its judgement. Black ichor sprayed across the stones, blue-steel sword catching for a second on what might have been bone, and Artorias' head flew twisting through the air. Boot slipping on his blood I fell to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. Stars flashed across my vision and Artorias' Greatsword jarred from the numb grip of my talons. I coughed violently, struggling to breath. I gulped air, heaving and hawing, lungs refilling. Sweat drenched my armor and stung my eyes. My cheeks burned, pain intensifying when I wiped at them with claws covered in Artorias' blood. Stomach kicking, I rolled to the side and vomited digestive acid, dry heaving several times after. Spitting dregs, I panted pushing up onto my hands and knees, vision fading and unfocused. Needles pressed into my skin, emotion and sensation drifting towards numbness. I looked up at the giant body next to me leaking fluid, spotting its helm face-down several feet away. Artorias. Crawling weakly over to the head I reached down, lifted the helm up, and looked in.
Empty. I stared at it, unfeeling and mindless. I hugged the helm, cradling it like a small child, "I'm sorry." I murmured.
"Artorias," the voices whispered, "do not mourn the passing of your old self." I seized them,
"Be silent." I hissed crushing them into oblivion, "I am not Artorias." Their presence vanished, destroyed and gone. "I am me."
Memories raged, limitless and free, ravaging my open mind. The Dark remained silent, obediently watching as the one called me struggled to comprehend what had just occurred. Who was me? Staring into the empty space of Artorias' helm I repeated, "I am me." The words were hollow, meaningless. I never wondered if I had family left living, coming to terms with that fact a long time ago, but I'd at least thought I was human at one point. I was just a clone? A fake? An illusion?
You are a False Existence.
I twitched, eyes falling on the sword forged from blue-steel next to me. Darkness swelled from me, swirling through the air and tainting the broken floor of the coliseum. I reached for the handle, sapphire shining brighter and brighter as my claw drew closer. Talons closing around its handle the Darkness pulsed once and assaulted the sword, absorbing into the blue-steel like water into a sponge. Artorias' Greatsword darkened, blue-steel and divine light fading, swallowing the Dark I exuded. Its sapphire dulled, turning abyssal black, and the blade warped slightly on one side, malformed and burned. The Dark still hung about me but with much less intensity than before. I blinked.
The sapphire shined bright blue, enveloping me in warm light, and a faceless, translucent humanoid knelt before me. It spoke without a mouth, "Master." It sighed affectionately and embraced me. "Being your blade has been the greatest of honors Master." Whispered the ghostly humanoid, "Since my forging you have used me with equal parts brutality and justice." It pulled back, head pointed at me, "However, my true purpose has come and we must part ways." I stared, not understanding. This seemed to pain the humanoid, voice gaining a desperate edge, "I know my sudden vocalization is odd, but please, before I go..." I blinked in confusion. It bowed its head respectfully, "Nothing would ever have come of it if I said so before, being what I am, but to say nothing now would soil my honor and injure my pride."The humanoid leaned forward, lipless face pressing against my forehead for a long moment. It pulled back and I felt it staring into my eyes despite not possessing any of its own. The ghostly thing hesitated, as if it had something deep and meaningful to say, something it had been holding for much longer than it could stand. It placed a hand on my cheek, indecision obvious, "Master I…" I cocked my head to the side, studying the strange thing. Its hand dropped, head falling forward to bump against my forehead, "Goodbye Master." It sighed.
I knelt in the coliseum once more, dark great sword in one hand and Artorias' helm in the other. Artorias' Greatsword had become the Abyssal Greatsword. I winced, regarding the sword resentfully, and grudgingly sheathed it on my back, eyes flicking to my other claw. Where once was a helm now resided a burbling ball of purplish black ooze hovering several inches above the scorched metal of the gauntlet.
The soul of Artorias Abysswalker.
What might happen if I broke the soul? Would I become Artorias? Talons twitching, I considered the thought. I might finally die if I did, but what would I be giving up? What drive would I be leaving behind? I only wanted to return to Lordran, find Ilyena, Orlai, and Laurentius, and then… then what? What would I do after? Probably leave Lordran but how? The gods would never let me leave and probably knew how, but was it worth going against them? Could I even? And then there were all the visions and voices telling me to save the world or something similar. Why did everything seem to revolve around me, influence me, change me? What made me so important? I was just Chosen Undead, a lonely immortal soul without a real purpose or certain personality. A blank slate for the most part that held no true awareness of itself or the world around. I sighed, "What am I supposed to do?" I asked the soul in hand, "What do I want to do?" It did not answer, bubbling and burbling quietly. Unsurprised I stood, placing the soul in my bottomless box, and looked around.
Artorias had vanished, coliseum more wrecked and crumbling than before, black muck no longer present. Aside from the broken stones and scuff marks here and there, there was no hint of the brutality not a minute gone. This did not surprise me. All battles behind fog doors ended as such, the defeated dissipating into nothingness and I continuing the mad quest as always. For battles to still conclude in much the same way as before gave me relief. At least something hadn't changed,
"Chosen!" Doll drilled into my side, catching me completely off-guard. I didn't bother resisting. Exhausted from defeating Artorias I resigned myself to whatever fate gravity ordained. We fell over in a pile, Doll on top of me incessantly chattering, "Chosen! You look awful!" Doll's golden eyes shimmered, only her cheerful smile outshining them, "But you came back! You came back!" Hugging my head while she babbled, tail wagging and nuzzling me with her soft cheeks, "You came back!" I smiled. The little girl had no shame in showing her love.
Sheltered in Doll's arms I lay perfectly still without a care in the world. After what felt like centuries, I breathed. Peace fell over the war-torn coliseum and I. Doll's chattering and cheer quieted, becoming subdued despite her intimacy but remaining within perception. My dull eyes focused above. Clouds sailed over the blue ocean of sky on soft winds. A breeze blew Doll's short hair about, strands tickling my nose, stones cool on the back of my head. I became acutely aware of the heat in my flesh brought about from intense combat, the dull aches and sharp flashes of electric pain. I also stank. I'd need to bathe before my armor started to itch from all the sweat. A cold stream would be nice for once. I blinked. I'd never needed to cool off before. A sigh burst from my lungs and I felt the weight on my shoulders leave with it. Relief soaked into me and I found myself thankful that, if only for the moment, the only thing expected of me was to lie still.
I reached up and rested a claw on Doll's back, halting her tirade. My eyes flicked to her own. Eyes wide and mouth frozen mid-speech she was utterly flabbergasted, stunned from the simple act of me pseudo hugging her. Lips spreading into a wide smile I pat her head with my other claw, "Hello, little one." I rumbled, "I'm back."