The purpose of a Trick Weapon wasn't necessarily for the versatility, but for the ability to make an opening when none was present and end the fight in one blow. Such savagery was resplendent, but that art form is now long lost to the passages of time.


Ruined Heaven


It hurt to think about it.

Three months had passed, and Ludwig still had not returned, his disappearance creating a wildfire of gossip throughout Orario.

The Holy Blade left often at random frequencies, but the longest they ever spanned was a month. For it to hit a quarter of a year was distressing and formed a certain fear within the hearts of many.

Thus, he made his decision.

Adorned in his worn hunter's gear, the thick leather brought some old comfort into his bones as he double checked his equipment and supplies. Maria went over his weapons, a blade of silver and a blade of iron, both dull in appearance but sharp enough to cut steel.

Elias' classes would be taken over by the others, as well as some free time for them to hone their skills in private. To them, it was a temporary reprieve, but also worrying of their teacher's health.

He was strong, yes, but so was the Holy Blade. If even Ludwig potentially succumbed to the Dungeon, how would Elias fare any better?

Adjusting his tricorn hat, the Hunter let the numbness spread throughout his body, feeling the prickliness on his skin as he let himself fall into a familiar state of mind he used when Dungeon diving.

"There. All done."

Shifting his travel sack over his shoulder, it bounced lightly against his blades bundled on his back as he turned to face Maria.

"How deep do you plan on traveling?"

"As deep as I need to."

She frowned but said nothing, stepping forward and planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Elias flashed a smile as he lifted his oily mask up, his face all but hidden as he left, waving goodbye to Hunter's he passed.

And as he walked, quite the number of stares he received as he left Guild property. He still used his walking cane, hearing the murmured whispers of his legacy and the shushed awes of a kitted Hunter walking the streets so freely.

They were famous, yes, but they hadn't dove into the Dungeon in Hunter's Gear for more than a year. He fully expected the gossip to be connected to Ludwig's disappearance.

The walk was pleasant, a cooling breeze in the air and warm sunlight before he was enveloped by muggy darkness and stinking corpses. Refreshing for his mind, to say the least.

He stopped occasionally for dried meats and herbs, storing them in a belt pouch or travel sack as he got closer to the Tower's entrance.

Entering Babel, people stared more as he passed silently, his tricorn hat and mask hiding his identity, but his cane betraying who he truly was, until he finally reached his first destination.

Standing in front of the large doors that separated the Dungeon to the Overworld, Elias watched as they slowly creaked open, groaning in protest before he stepped through.

And so, his Hunt began.


As Elias tended to his solo duty, so did she.

Step by step, each cracked yet sturdy stone ascending into the small hut their Creator called home, she approached in what felt like decades.

To what sustained him, nobody knew, but Elias theorised the Old Blood ran through Old Gehrman's veins, and that the blood of the Gods granted him a longevity of sorts. He was a God Killer after all, and even in this decrepit state of his, she was in agreement that the First Hunter could still reap their immortal souls.

Maria knocked once on the door then waited patiently, the beautiful plum mahogany holding nothing but a simple gold handle to thump against the door.

Her patience was rewarded when the door creaked open ever so slightly, letting her step inside.

The door closed, lamps lit themselves, casting a dim glow over the messy workshop he called home.

"Lady Maria," he said with a smile, his voice betraying his age. "How lovely to see you."

"As is you, Gehrman."

The First grinned, wheeling himself towards his bench, an only relic of the past dismantled and strewn about.

Despite his veiny hands and botched skin, his fingers moved efficiently, not shaking in the slightest as he began reassembly of a crude version of a saw cleaver.

"How may I assist you today?" Gehrman asked. "Something of great importance must've occurred for somebody like you to show up."

If she took any offence, Maria didn't show it as she removed her tricorn hat, holding it with both hands just above her waist.

"Ludwig has gone missing, and Elias has gone chasing," she simply said. "According to Elias, Ludwig has had a prophecy about Orario's downfall, and would have gone searching for answers."

"Down there," Gehrman nodded approvingly. "The answer lies in blood. Always has been, always will be."

Whether Maria agreed with that statement or not, her neutral face didn't flicker as she continued.

"Ludwig has been gone for three months now."

"A short period of time," the First waved her off. "Bloodstone, third drawer behind you."

Gloved hand pulled the drawer open and picked the deep Ruby-like crystal before handing it to Gehrman, the Hunter carefully placing it into an empty socket on the weapon.

He hummed in amusement for a while, focusing on his work as Maria watched carefully. One could always learn something from the Hunter who made them who they were.

"If Elias has taken chase, then there shouldn't be anything to worry about," Gehrman finally said, cracking a wide smile. "That boy is far too proficient for his own good. He'll be putting me to shame if he gets any stronger."

"Do you really think that?" Maria asked with a small frown. "He has killed Great One's, but they are not a God."

"A fledging God is still a God," Gehrman corrected her mirthfully. "And their blood is just as effective. Do not take away from his accomplishments, for even an infant Great One is enough to drive the whole world insane." He scoffed, shoving a sharp blade into its socket with a huff. "Besides, His fortitude is ridiculous for a modern mortal even I'm shocked!"

The Old Hunter glanced at Maria and sighed, his nimble fingers leaving the meticulous weapon alone.

"He will come back alive," Gehrman said, his tone firm and final. "And that's that. Now fetch me my magnifying glass. This is the fun part~"


A slew of beasts blocked his path, and so a mountain of corpses he left in his wake, their magic stones crushed so no monster could feed off it to build its strength.

His eyes scanned the darkness ahead with a hint of amusement, his lantern a beacon of warmth that fought off the surrounding darkness and the biting cold.

For every layer he dove, the harder She fought to keep him at bay. It meant nothing to him, but he finally accepted Gascoigne's words at heart.

She was fighting back.

Her conscious was growing stronger, and her control over the Dungeon was growing stronger by the day. It seems killing the original owner of the Dungeon was a mistake, he mused to himself. Then again, Ebrietas was an old relic of long forgotten days being manipulated by an old fossil that named themselves a God. In the grander scheme, their actions ruined the system in place, and so they were dispatched; an unnecessary cog in the machine.

He still remembered tearing apart their flesh with ease, slicing and hacking away at tough yet soft flesh that rejected sharpness before he moved to more primitive weapons.

His right arm still held the cosmic power of Ebrietas, able to call forth a fraction of her true power. No price for its strength either, for he also consumed their blood.

The power of Gods in his system, waiting to be beckoned by his fingertips, a cosmos bound to flesh and bone. How unfortunate that it'd drive him insane and potentially kill if he utilised it at its max capacity.

Sweeping deeper into the labyrinth called the Dungeon, his well-tempered mind never led him astray as he went deeper than any normal adventurer would dare.

Deeper and deeper, down twisting stairs and suffocating tunnels, all the way until he reached a set of doors that didn't belong, hidden in the depths, hiding a terrible, dark secret that only select few had knowledge of.

He smiled, pressing his gloved hand against the cold, metal surface.

"I'm back you old coot."

Revealing a little patch of skin, Elias made a small slit in his wrist, smearing the dark blood against the surface in a strange pattern.

At first, nothing… then it creaked… then it groaned… then it screamed.

A banshee's wail that would rupture eardrums and paralyse the weak, Elias stood unfazed as his skin sealed itself as the doors slowly opened.

A curse upon your soul, desecration upon you usurpers, hell to the Executioners- he had heard all the threats from the sickly woman of Hemwick, and every time he beheaded them, they all said one thing.

Curses upon you, dark one. Even the Great Ones cannot save you.

And to that, he smirked, and simply moved on.

Stepping through, the door closed shut with a loud bang, an ominous prelude of what was to come, of the nightmares that lay ahead; waiting to devour its next victim with fervent vigour.

But Elias was no stranger to nightmares. He had met the source, crushed it, and took it for his own.

Sickly appendages with matted fur and coalesced blood, limbs far too long and short in places and horns that curled up, dry of life and cracked in places, rotten lips hiding rotten teeth and a ghastly breath so rank it was poisonous. Black beady eyes with little intelligence and hands with nails so long they were daggers in their own right…

A mutated Yharnamite, the blood of Cursed Gods having warped his visage. A terror of the night, a sickly beast able to incur a deep fear into the hearts of many. A fearsome opponent for any adventurer-,

And Elias paid it no kind, stepping past the former human as it snarled, stumbling around blindly for something, ignoring the breathing man fresh with cursed blood as it cried out in pain.

They were harmless if left alone, and their cruel fate wasn't because of their actions, but from somebody else's. Some may think death a mercy, but Elias was no Reaper of Souls. He did not have the right to grant them a wish they may not desire. So, he walked on.

And as he walked on, a familiar view filled his vision as he smiled.

Old Yharnam was in shambles, collapsed buildings and ever-burning fires littered about, the ground warped and cracked like a giant tree root started emerging from underneath. Metal gates were twisted and turned, ignoring human logic, and forming their own paths alongside scorched cobble. Plant life was non-existent, an amalgamation of a 'plant' scattered about as withered roots of disappointment.

The most disturbing, however, was the fact that gravity in Old Yharnam was all but moot. Instead of cavern walls, Old Yharnam formed the walls, rising vertically but without anything falling. It formed the ground, the walls, and the ceiling, all except for one large hole in the centre that dim moonlight spilled out from, falling carelessly and lighting random patches of the cursed, forgotten world.

And he found it quite welcoming, with its eldritch shadows stretched along the scorched earth, the haunting visages cast by those who held torches, the incessant snarling of rabid beasts roaming about and the occasional screams of something no longer human trying to be.

He felt his fingers twitch and grimaced.

His urge to simply slaughter, to devour, was still there despite his best efforts.

Elias laughed softly, his voice carried away by a cold, unforgiving draft that came from who knows where.

Good. He was afraid he lost his touch.

Stalking through the nightmare town, his boots followed familiar pathing as he danced in between attacks, avoiding dirty yellow nails and toxic spittle alongside makeshift weapons and torches.

His cane hit the ground hard once, then twice, then split open into a masterful creation of metal spikes that formed a complicated whip-

A whip that surged forwards in a horizontal arc, the strength and sharpness cleanly decapitating lower from upper in a brutal display of blood and rotten gore.

With clean efficiency, the group of 'citizens' were dispatched quickly, the Hunter showing extreme proficiency as he used the whip not only as a weapon but as a cruel lasso, stealing objects and items to use as projectiles or weapons themselves.

He never over-extended himself, and his whip never betrayed his intentions, his neutral eyes calculating as he dismantled the third group he had encountered in a matter of moments.

The curse of a skilled Hunter, he supposed. A thirst for battle against something insurmountable never satisfied, their skill too efficient.

He never tired, never rested, never mis-stepped or missed. He was an unstoppable force, actions swift and near-impossible to dodge. He was a Hunter, and a damned good one at that.

So, when he encountered something alien-like, something of the cosmos stumbling about like a baby, he felt his lips shift into that of an excited, feral grin.

Something was happening, and by the Gods he slew, he'd find it.


Darker and darker the further he ran.

Faster and faster his boots slammed.

His Guiding Moonlight, the Holiness he worshipped, the Light that made him whole… was gone.

He had seen Great Ones before, oh yes, but this… this one was different.

A cobbled nightmare it hid, a wicked illusion it cast. Its power was insurmountable, even defeating his Holy Blade through wicked means, and now somewhere in the Dungeon trapped in a never-ending web.

Only the Cosmos could cast such a terrible thing to Earth, something so horrific and mesmerising yet had no worth in its eyes.

Oh, Wilhelm, if only he could see what he had…

It was like he could now feel eyes inside of his head.


Having killed multiple 'Great Ones', he assumed he had ascended, but not quite into Godhood, or perhaps a different version of it, but regardless the Cosmos did not bother him as much.

But this… this was far different then he expected. He expected something, but white strands of material too strong to be called 'web' had slowly begun to appear.

It was a small patch in a corner of Old Yharnam, near a hole that led to some strange forbidden place that he might've written off as insects over a period of time. But Elias could see the signs of it spreading the further he delved, of whatever created it slowly filling abandoned houses or the occasional area at random before expanding into coating entire sections. The spiders with carcasses tougher than platinum confirmed his theories.

He couldn't piece together what made them, but a rock-like exterior harder than most metals was concerning, and their limbs that could pierce ground with ease could easily pierce through armour and flesh. Even their mandibles- fangs, he frowned, were tough enough to crush even the sturdiest of weapons. Then there were their webs…

Upon contact with a spider, it was malleable, yet when set in place or spat as a projectile, it was tougher than anything he had encountered. Even a Floor Boss's durability was lesser then this web, and they were considered a pinnacle of fortitude.

This was no mere beast, but of Kin, from the expanse of the Cosmos. It was the only explanation for this out-of-world defence and offensive capabilities.

A strength led to a weakness, but even with their heavy weight, they were nimble… agile to the point it could dodge a near point-blank shot from his pistol.

For a normal man, they would struggle, but Elias was far from that. He had hands that ripped apart a God and pierced through their defences. He had a will unshakable by any, even resisting powerful mental warfare from a ye old Great One. He had no fear of any beast, and unyielding patience when facing one.

But the Cosmos? The Mysterious Kin? He was faced with uncertainty, a hint of anticipation, and a fear of the unknown.

He was unsure whether he could face them, but would rise to the occasion nonetheless. Gehrman had fought them in his prime, but he was not the First Hunter, and he never would be.

And so, instead of venturing into the dark unknown, he turned around and walked away, throwing an etched dagger into a building nearby.

He needed to return and muster his forces. This threat had gone long unchecked, and he was afraid it might evolve even more while he was gone.

Oh Ludwig… what had he led him into this time?


"Over here!"

The sound of boots stomping on earth quickly grew louder as the party of adventurers squinted at what their companion had found.

"It's a… hole."

The elf glared at her dwarf companion who was peering into the darkness as if he were a fool.

"You called us over here to look at a hole?"

"Maybe it's a monster gloryhole."

"Rakan!"

"Sheesh, you guys are way too uptight," the support of the group grinned. "But seriously, its just a hole, ain't it?"

"Nah, not this," the dwarf frowned, examining the dungeon walls. "This ones been here a while. Normal spawn points don't last thing long either."

Carefully, the dwarf took his Warhammer into his hands then swung.

Metal smashed the wall into smithereens, rock debris flying backwards into what was no longer a hole, but an expansive cavern of glowing green crystal.

"Jackpot~"

"How sure are we that this isn't a new sort of trap?" The elf questioned, arms folded as she glared at the new route. "There's never been something like this reported before."

"Prolly cause they didn't want others to know," the support shrugged. "C'mon, stop being a pansy and lets go treasure hunting!"

"I'll go first and scout," the dwarf said, stepping through the hole carefully and looking around. "If anything, I can break my way out if it's a trap."

"Nonsense, we're coming with you."

And like that, the party of three entered the new cavern, looking around at their discovery on the ninth floor.

The discovery would later be reported to the Orario Guild as a tragedy, and the Dungeon locked down for further investigation. The only evidence of the adventurer's presence in the cavern was their tags, half eroded and covered in webs tougher than steel.


AN: This story is gonna pick up once I get the ball rolling, which will be... thirteen years from now

Probably, idk. I've got the end game thought out for this already, and even if it goes underappreciated till its completion, I'll be happy if I complete this lmao