Yeral groaned and opened his eyes, his entire body aching. He looked around, seeing that he was in a dark cavern, with a large rock wall on one side. The earth was a nasty, unnatural purple color, and everything past his immediate surroundings was shrouded in inky darkness. Reise was nowhere to be seen. After Manus had awoken, the ground had trembled and split, opening an enormous chasm below Oolacile. Much of the city had collapsed into the fissure, destroying the great civilization in an instant. Yeral couldn't remember falling, or what had happened to Reise. As he pulled himself to his feet, he hoped desperately that she was still alive. This was all his fault. The air was heavy around him, with a familiar feeling to it – this was another opening of the Abyss. But it didn't make sense! Why would this primeval man be connected to the Abyss, and why would Kaathe encourage the people to awaken it, if it would destroy them? The questions rung in his mind, but he could not answer them. First, he needed to get out of this hole.
Looking upwards, Yeral saw that there was sunlight glinting far above him, with a thin path snaking its way up the rock wall beside him. With no other option, Yeral began wearily marching his way up the rocky precipice. Sometimes, when he would look out over the abyss, small white eyes would peer back at him. He even swore that, on occasion, the darkness would shift and stir. Strange, unintelligible whispers permeated the air like a constant breeze. Somehow, this place managed to be even more unnerving than the Abyss below New Londo. What really bothered Yeral as he climbed, however, was the fact that the monster was lurking somewhere below him. Deep down, at the bottom of the pit, he knew that the primeval man was working to spread its evil across the land. Briefly he wondered whether he should try and stop the beast, but no – he must escape. He must find Reise. With renewed conviction, Yeral continued the climb, though the thought of the Father of the Abyss still ate at the back of his mind.
To his relief, Yeral found that the thin pathway did, indeed, lead him all the way up to the surface. As he emerged from the darkness of the Abyss, he saw that he was back in the woods that surrounded Oolacile. The grass around the edges of the pit was rotted, and lines of black corruption crawled across the ground like wicked tree roots. Soon his gaze was drawn to the city itself. Or, rather, what had once been the city of Oolacile. Now only a few clusters of buildings stood, with many having fallen over or sunken into the blackness completely. From the way the sun hung low in the sky, Yeral surmised that he had been unconscious for many hours. It was far too late to save the people of the city now, he realized. That meant that Reise was almost certainly doomed as well. With no idea of what to do now, Yeral sunk to the ground and stared blankly out at the ruined city. How was he supposed to become a Dark Lord and save the world, when he couldn't control the darkness? His moping, however, was soon interrupted by the distinctive clank of armored footfalls behind him.
Yeral whipped around, hoping to see Reise walking towards him. His heart soon sank as he saw that the newcomer was most certainly not Reise. The armored man was very tall – similar in height to Ornstein – and his armor was a dark silver color. Adorning the man's armor was a long, flowing purple cape with a matching armored hood. On his back was a huge, ornate silver greatsword, and strapped to his arm was a heavy triangular greatshield. Trailing behind the man was a fluffy gray wolf, that seemed to be carrying a similar sword of its own. The man strode right up next to Yeral and looked out over the ruined city of Oolacile, then placed his hand on Yeral's shoulder.
"Come now – on your feet. It's alright." the man said softly, his voice sounding deep and strong. Despite the dire situation, he did not seem to be at all worried. As Yeral slowly stood up, the man grinned below his hood. "There you go. Even in your darkest hour, always keep your chin up. This city may be saved yet." he said warmly. Yeral was very confused now. Who was this knight, and why was he so certain that things would turn out well? In fact, how did he intend to save the city when it was already crumbled? That sort of optimism seemed rather unwise in light of the current situation.
"Excuse me, sir? Who, exactly, are you?" Yeral asked politely, trying his best to hide his confusion. The knight chuckled. He was entirely too pleasant for a man overseeing a catastrophe.
"Why, I am Sir Artorias! One of the four knights! Surely you have heard of me?" Artorias replied, with more than a hint of pride. Yeral naturally recognized the name immediately, and suddenly everything made sense. Of course the legendary Abysswalker would be sent to quell the Abyss in Oolacile. It also explained why he did not seem too bothered by the Abyss, for he had faced it before. Yeral bit his tongue to stop himself from reminding Artorias that he had actually failed to save New Londo from the Four Kings. Better not to antagonize one of the world's most skilled swordsmen, he thought. "Now, the question is, who are you?" Artorias asked calmly, cutting through Yeral's train of thought.
"I am Sir Yeral. Knight of Astora." Yeral said uncertainly, suddenly realizing something unpleasant. Artorias had faced the Abyss in New Londo, what would happen if he recognized Yeral's darkwraith armor? Thankfully, Artorias simply nodded and extended his hand. Hesitantly, Yeral shook it, and the two knights turned towards Oolacile.
"With introductions out of the way, what say you Sir Yeral? Will you aid me in saving this city?" Artorias asked after a moment. Yeral nodded immediately in agreement. After all, if anyone could defeat the Father of the Abyss, it would be a great warrior like Artorias, he decided. Together the two knights descended into the remains of Oolacile. The city was now more empty than ever, with large cracks in the stone pavement and nary a sound but the knights' footsteps. Yeral constantly glanced about nervously, seeing glowing red pinpricks of light moving around within the windows of the dark buildings. Artorias did not seem to be phased by the eerie surroundings, marching intently across the vacant city square. The wolf that had been dutifully following Artorias up until now abruptly stopped, its ears perking up. The wolf uttered a low growl and looked over at a nearby doorway. Artorias quickly drew his shining greatsword, as a horrific creature emerged from the blackness within the building.
This monster had once been a normal human, but now it was hunched over oddly, with freakishly long arms trailing on the ground. Its head was a bloated, thorny mass covered in tiny red eyeballs, and its skin was a pale bloodless gray. Letting out a low gurgling hiss, the creature swiftly jumped forwards at Artorias, far faster than its shambling stature would have indicated. Yeral raised his sword to strike at the creature from the side, but before he could, Artorias leaped into the air with astonishing force, did an impressive front-flip, and smashed his enormous blade down through the bloathead, easily cutting it to pieces. Yeral was astonished, for he had never seen a heavily-armed knight move with such speed and such strength. Artorias was even more mighty than he could have expected. Yeral prayed that they would never become enemies.
Much of their journey through Oolacile was the same, Artorias's great skill outshining Yeral in every respect. But Yeral was not jealous, really, it was a rather welcome reprieve after all that he had been through. As the knights trekked through the ruined city, Yeral grew increasingly worried. He had seen no signs of Reise, or indeed any non-mutated humans. Could one of the many bloatheads actually have been a transformed Reise, indistinguishable from the rest? Yeral mulled over that possibility with horror as Artorias led them into a dark, ruined prison. This building was near the bottom of the city's ruins, half sunken into the Abyss already. Odd purple goop stained the walls, and small black particles floated in the air. All of the prison cells had their bars torn open, and chains could be heard scraping through the walls, but there was not a living thing in sight.
Until, that is, the two knights entered a large square stone chamber with chains lining the walls, and a pair of large torches illuminating it. Standing in the very center, panting heavily, was a woman dressed in heavily-worn but still easily identifiable Elite Knight armor. In one hand, dragging on the ground, was a battered titanite catch-pole. It was none other than Lady Reise. Yeral ran towards her, obviously pleased to see that she was still alive.
"Reise!" he called out excitedly. Reise looked up at him slowly, and Yeral began to realize that something was very wrong. Her body was glowing faintly with black energy, similar to that which suffused the air of the Abyss. With every movement, droplets of glowing purple goo dripped eerily onto the ground, like nasty congealed blood. Yeral abruptly stopped moving, staring at Reise in horror, as she let out an unearthly hiss. Artorias raised his sword and dashed towards Reise, but Yeral simply held out his hand, stopping Artorias in his tracks. "Please, Sir Artorias. She was my comrade. Allow me to face her, with honor." Yeral spoke forlornly. Grudgingly, Artorias nodded his head and backed off, intending to observe the battle. He would not intrude on the young knight's sense of honor, he decided. Reise stood still for a moment, her body quivering, as the black energy in the air surged into her. It was clear that, whatever had happened to her in the Abyss, it had completely overtaken her body. With an awful scream, sounding more like a pained howl than any human noise, Reise hefted her catch-pole in both hands and charged directly at Yeral with surprising speed.
As soon as she got close, Reise whipped her catch-pole around wildly, with Yeral just barely jumping out of the way. Her swings were powerful and fast, but clumsy. Clearly the power of the Abyss did not favor precision. Still, Reise's newfound speed was worrying, as she swiftly followed up her wide slash with a jumping smash. Yeral rolled out of the way a fraction of a second too late, and the circular blade carved into his right shoulder. Whether the curved edge was razor-sharp, or Yeral's armor was simply weak, he did not know, but either way the catch-pole slashed through his protection like nothing, leaving a bleeding gash in his shoulder. He was thankful that Reise hadn't managed to take his arm off. With an animalistic growl, Reise hoisted her polearm into the air and slashed it diagonally twice. Yeral managed to escape from the first slice, then bashed his shield into her weapon when she went for the second. Thankfully, his attempt at parrying the blow succeeded, and Reise stumbled backwards, easily thrown off balance. Yeral took the opportunity to gulp down a swig of Estus, instantly mending his wounded shoulder.
If Reise had been operating with her normal level of skill, Yeral's strategy to fight her never would have worked. But as it was, her crazed flailing left her wide open for Yeral's counter-attacks. Reise yelled angrily, jumping at Yeral and performing a front-flip slam very similar to the move Yeral had seen Artorias perform earlier, but Reise's attempt lacked the finesse of the skilled Abysswalker. Yeral sidestepped with ease as Reise's blade stuck into the ground. He swung his zweihander sideways, striking Reise hard in the side of the head. Bleeding a copious amount of purple goo, Reise screeched with primal rage, a sound that haunted Yeral to his core. Yeral moved to slice his sword downwards in Reise's head, right as she unleashed a swift flurry of slashes with her catch-pole. The two knights traded blows, with Yeral being cut across the stomach, and Reise being chopped in the head. As the two of them stumbled from the force of each others' attacks, Reise apparently realized that her current level of strength wasn't enough. With a horrendous rumbling growl, Reise clenched her fists, clouds of dark magic materializing in the air. The black energy swirled around her, and then exploded with a powerful burst that threw Yeral backwards. Reise's body was now engulfed in more Abyss magic than ever, practically radiating clouds of it from every inch of her body.
With an enormous burst of speed, almost too fast for Yeral to see, Reise all but flew through the air at him, howling madly the whole way. Her catch-pole, now stained black by the Abyss, shone wickedly as it passed through the air. Yeral, who had been sitting dazed on the ground from the dark magic burst, quickly realized that he would not be able to dodge this assault. Instead, he hefted his greatsword and thrust it forward in front of him at the very last second. Reise, skewered in mid-air by the long blade, let out a low hiss of pain. The momentum from Reise's jump pulled the sword out of Yeral's hands and Reise landed on the ground in a heap beside him, the tip of the zweihander sticking up in the air. Slowly the dark magic aura faded away from Reise's body, as she took one last pained breath, before she was still. Yeral stared at the broken body for a long time in shock, before he finally managed to speak.
"Reise... I am so, so sorry..." he whispered hoarsely. Artorias, who had been anxiously watching the fierce battle from one edge of the chamber, slowly approached Yeral. Yeral heard the knight's clanking feet behind him, but he refused to turn around, still staring at Reise's body, horrified.
"I am sorry about your friend." Artorias said softly. He may have only known Yeral for a few hours, but he had seen what the horrors of the Abyss could do. Many brave knights had been consumed by the vile blackness, forced to fight their former comrades. "She tried to fight the thing that caused this, I think." Artorias realized quickly. "That must be why she was so thoroughly corrupted." he murmured, more to himself than anything. Yeral said nothing, though he knew that Artorias was probably correct.
"This is all my fault..." he croaked out eventually. Artorias opened his mouth to reassure the distraught Yeral, only to be interrupted by an unpleasantly familiar voice.
"Oh yes, and you have done very well indeed! Better than I could have hoped!" rang out the gravelly voice of Darkstalker Kaathe, slithering out of a dark passage to the Abyss. Artorias whipped around, his hand gripping his sword tightly, as his wolf companion growled furiously. The serpent was sporting his normal toothy grin as he coiled his long gray body in a circle around the two knights.
"Kaathe! You darkwraith coward! I knew you were the cause of this!" hissed Artorias lowly, seething with anger.
"Oh, my dear Artorias. Did you not appreciate my efforts in New Londo? What a tragedy, I thought we were friends!" Kaathe replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Artorias raised his greatsword threateningly, but the serpent ignored the gesture. He obviously was not intimidated by Artorias in the least. "Besides, I was not the one who awoke the primeval man. That honor goes to my loyal servant! Isn't that right, Sir Yeral?" Kaathe continued silkily, obviously enjoying himself thoroughly. Artorias turned to look at Yeral accusingly, who hung his head in shame.
"I never meant for any of this to happen." Yeral murmured despondently, as Kaathe simply chuckled. The serpent looked around mockingly, before leaning his head down over Reise's body.
"Really? Because I seem to recall you swearing a covenant with me, to bring darkness to the world... Dark Lord." the serpent taunted nastily, before turning to face Artorias, who did not seem to know how to respond. "And you, noble Artorias. Do not tell me you did not recognize the armor of my servants! You insult me!" he said, pretending to sound hurt. Artorias glanced at Yeral strangely, before simply shaking his head. At that moment, Yeral decided that he had heard enough. Jumping to his feet angrily, he pulled off his metal skull mask and threw it defiantly to the ground.
"Enough! Consider our covenant broken, snake! You deceived me, promised me a better world... promised me power. But the truth is, you are nothing but a miserable darkened wretch. Your Abyss cannot create, it can only destroy!" Yeral ranted angrily. Artorias smiled with a sense of satisfaction, but to the knights' displeasure, Kaathe did not seem to be phased. In fact, the serpent burst into loud, cackling laughter. Yeral glared, his now-exposed blue eyes piercing the serpent, as Kaathe's laughter subsided.
"This is rich indeed. You were willing to kill others in my name, but as soon as it is your friend on the chopping block, you are horrified? You have no place to lecture me, undead!" Kaathe exclaimed gleefully, his words cutting into Yeral far worse than Reise's blade ever had. "Besides, you imply that the darkness is any worse than its alternative? Enjoy, then, burning in agony for all eternity! At least the age of dark would grant a swift death." Kaathe added, with a hint of conviction behind his mocking tone. Yeral looked down at the ground, saying nothing, as the serpent grinned even wider than before. "No, I thought not. You do not have the will to link the fire. You are too weak to do anything, so this is where I must leave you. Enjoy wallowing in your failure, you will be hollow before you know it! So long!" Kaathe spoke triumphantly, clearly convinced that he had broken Yeral's spirit, and he was not entirely wrong. Artorias, quivering with rage, tried to slice at the serpent with his greatsword, but in an instant Kaathe was gone, and the blade whiffed through empty air. Artorias sighed resignedly and hefted his blade back over his shoulder. He turned towards the passage that Kaathe had emerged from, which led straight into the chasm of the Abyss.
"This is where I must leave you, Sir Yeral. Return to safety above." he commanded. Yeral was about to protest, before Artorias spoke again, this time more softly. "I must face the father of the Abyss alone. You would certainly be overtaken just as your friend was. I can withstand what a normal man could not. Now, go." Artorias said, marching towards the dark passage. As the valiant warrior vanished into the blackness, Yeral stood stock-still, until Artorias's footsteps no longer echoed through the chamber. Then, he moved quickly, tearing the darkwraith armor off of his body with disgust. He was ashamed to have ever worn such a symbol of wickedness. With the silver skeletal armor lying in a pile on the stone brick floor, Yeral walked over to Reise's body, or rather Reise's empty armor. Her body itself had been so corrupted by the Abyss that, when she died, it dissolved completely into purple goop, leaving behind the empty shell of her Elite Knight armor, along with Yeral's greatsword.
"Reise... I can never make up for this. But please, allow me to wear your armor, as an eternal reminder of what I have done." Yeral spoke intently, placing the scratched Elite Knight helmet over his head.