Chapter 33: Spider
The estate of Duke Tseldora was expansive, and completely overrun with monstrous spiders and mutant Hollows. At the rear entrance to the mansion a Red Phantom actually appeared, but it was only a peasant armed with a pickaxe who confronted them and was easily dealt with.
In fact it was Erik who cut down the Invader. He didn't use his Pyromancy and instead vanquished the Red Phantom with his Heide Long Sword. There was something cold in the chef's expression now, and it worried Benhart.
The chef should have been smiling, he should have been joking. Instead there was silence and a grimace on the young man's lips.
No attempts to ask what had happened worked. Vengarl wasn't talking either, so in the end the knight and Rav'el stepped back and gave Erik some space. Not too much, as there was still a whole monster infested manor to go through, but still.
The two figured it was probably some issue that was born from Creighton though. His lack of presence, the blood, and Erik's despondent features spoke loudly.
"The duke's private quarters were at the very bottom of the mansion. That's where he kept all of his experiment and where I was beheaded," Vengarl spoke, leading the group through the halls.
"Any traps?"
"Just the experiments themselves. His sick mind created a lot of abominations that were harder to slay than one might expect," Vengarl replied to Benhart.
"I feel it."
"Pardon?" Everyone turned to look at Erik, who was staring at a door in concentration.
"I can feel the soul I need. It was vague at first, like it was moving around, but now it's settled down. We have to keep going."
Several doors and floors later, and the party emerged into a basement completely covered in thick, sticky webs.
"A hundred souls that the keeper of the soul is a spider of some sort," Benhart chuckled halfheartedly. That got a snort from Erik who shook his head.
"No bet."
As the group traveled downwards, they ran into a large number of cages and abandoned rooms filled with tools that looked fit for a torture chamber. The reek of Chaos and the Blight lingered, but so too did a Darker, more heady trace of power that made the Undead gag. Rav'el seemed to be unaffected, so perhaps it was related to the Darksign?
At any rate the reduced fellowship reached the final floor after dealing with a tiny host of giant spiders.
"Here we are. Beyond this gate lies a monster that will try and kill us," Erik sighed, staring at the fog gate at the very lowest level. He slipped off his Bottomless Box and set it against the wall nearby before adjusting his grip on the sword.
"Shall we?" Benhart offered, and Erik nodded before stepping through.
When the chef entered the underground chamber he felt no sudden pulse of bloodlust nor sensed any foes. Rather, there was a dull roaring and screaming at the edges of his hearing that grew louder as he focused on what seemed to be the source.
Erik gulped, and felt the souls within him become active.
Before him was a dragon. It was petrified from eons beneath the earth, yet it still possessed an overwhelming power that called out.
"Oh my," Benhart muttered in awe as he stepped through. Vengarl humphed in agreement. Rav'el was the only figure not to be entranced but the ancient being.
"Above!" He cried, hefting his battleaxe.
Looking up, Erik's spirit plummeted. A massive spider hung from the ceiling, watching them with beady red eyes. With a cackle it began to unfurl itself before plopping down from the roof, a wave of bloodlust slamming into the intruders. Dozens of giant spiders crawled down the walls to join their primogenitor, and Erik could see that this monster before him had two head.
"Scatter!" Erik cried, dashing to the side. His companions did so as well, Benhart rushing to the front and slamming his sword onto the carapace of the monster. However, to everyone's shock the blow just bounced off, the rebound sending the knight staggering backward. A swipe from the monster's talons hurled Benhart into the wall where spiders began to swarm.
"Shit! Eat fire!" Erik shouted, tossing a Fireball at the side of the gargantuan spider. The Pyromancy never reached. Instead, it fizzled out before it even touched the shell of the monster, and for a moment the chef felt an oppressive aura crashing onto his shoulders. His Fire Seed recoiled, and so did his souls.
"My Pyromancy isn't working!" Erik began to panic. It was his best offense, his most versatile tool! Fire and Ice could deal massive damage to pretty much anything, but something in the chamber was suppressing it!
He glanced at the petrified dragon and felt a smug sneer get projected at him. Damn this thing!
"Undead! We have to pull back!" Rav'el cried, being cornered by some of the lesser monster spiders. Erik snarled and stabbed one of them before rushing to help the Lionkin.
"We can't! The fog gate is one way only! We have to kill this thing or else!" Erik explained, slicing at the spiders. Meanwhile Benhart had managed to get to his feet and was distracting the two-headed spider. Yet for some reason his sword was glowing brighter and brighter with every swing.
"That's it!" Erik exclaimed. "Benhart, your sword! It was made from a dragon according to Ornifex! It must be reacting to this one here!"
"Wonderful! How does that help?!" the knight from Jugo cried while being shoved back with a smack.
"Get closer to the dragon! Maybe something will happen that will give us an edge!"
"Fine! But you have to keep it off my back!"
"Deal!" Erik ran at the monster, slashing his blade along its legs. There was barely even a scratch on the armored limbs, though the chef had successfully attracted the attentions of the massive spider. With a screech it lunged, trying to bite Erik in half, but the cook was nimble and dodged the snapping jaws. He managed to score a hit against one of the eyes, blinding it with his sword jabbed through the socket.
That just made it angry, and it opened its deformed mouth. Something bright began to glow inside, and only Vengarl's shouts along with Drangleic gained instincts kept Erik from being blown apart by a ravening beam of energy.
"Holy shit! What kind of madman gives his giant spider laser breath?!" Erik screamed, running to the side of the monster.
"The same madman who would give it an impenetrable carapace!" Vengarl retorted.
"Boy, lead the monster over here!" Erik looked around for the source of Rav'el's voice, and gaped when he saw the Lionkin clinging to a stalactite on the ceiling. The chef quickly saw what his comrade planned through and ran towards it, the spider blinding chasing him.
That was its first mistake. With a sound of grinding stone the Lionkin smashed the giant pillar of earth and rode it down onto the spider's back, the blow pinning it down and the spike of stone piercing the previously untouchable hide.
"Yes! Take that you bastard!" Erik cried, only to scream like a woman and throw himself to the side as another energy beam cut through where he had been standing.
"Die!" Rav'el cried, bringing his axe down on the monster and widening the damage already done.
The two-headed spider's second mistake was forgetting about Benhart.
"Out of the way!" the Undead and the Lionkin took one look at the knight and hightailed it away from the spider.
Confused, the impaled monster could only stagger around drunkenly trying to see what the fuss was. When it did manage to glimpse the reason, its eyes widened comically.
Benhart was running at the spider, sword held high. As for his ancient weapon, the blue glow that surrounded it was pulsing brighter than ever, and a trail of azure flames billowed out from behind.
With a wordless scream of martial pride, Benhart swung his blade down upon the head of the monster. All at once every drop of power that had been accumulated inside the great sword was unleashed explosively, and the monstrous spider was torn clean in half by the attack. With a groan the body began to dissolve into a flurry of souls and black ichor, and the death of their master caused the smaller spiders to scatter in panic.
A giant soul appeared inside the carcass and it rushed over to Erik, who accepted the chaos red soul.
Freyja. A name. Freyja. A love. Freyja. A purpose. Master loved me. Fed me. Gave me things. How nice, how nice! The screams did not matter. So what if animals cry? I was special. He made me. He made me. I serve him. I serve Tseldora. Mother would be so proud. She was disgusted with me. But I ate her. Tasty. Humans taste so good. Tseldora loved me. Fed me. How odd that I was once human like him.
The hot burning stink of rotten fire was a common smell around the experiments. They tasted spicy.
The cloying sweetness of the creeping shadows were rarer treats to taste, but I enjoyed them plenty. They tasted like they looked. Blue.
The tingle of souls as they filled me was so much fun! Tseldora lets me do all sorts of things. As long as I don't hurt the ones in the cage I can play all I want!
Why is that tiny red man trying to break the cages? The human that reeks of blood and rust is making a mess of master's laboratory! Go away! I won't let you hurt Master Tseldora!
The Dragon-Shadow-Fire-Not-Human my beloved Tseldora called 'Aldia' came again. Apparently something went wrong? The throne isn't working? I don't understand their discussion. Oh, it seems Aldia wanted to use the Primal Bonfire for something.
I haven't seen master in a while. He's probably still sad about all the experiments running away. I know! I'll bring them back! Come my children! Fetch master's lost toys!
Master master master master do you still love Freyja?
"Urk!" Erik gagged as the strange, alien thoughts of the spider's soul filled him.
"Impressive. I've never seen anyone absorb souls like that. A trait of your status as Candidate?" Benhart asked, resting his restored blade on his shoulder while Rav'el cautiously approached. "I saw you do the same with Lady Najka, but couldn't bring myself to ask at that point."
"Seems so," Erik agreed, eyeing the blue sword. "It looks like my idea worked."
"Certainly did! A strange soul emerged from the dragon's corpse and flew into my family's sword. It seems to have restored it to full. Here, have a gander!" Benhart said proudly, and Erik smiled before touching the flat of the blue blade.
His souls began to hum and scream and roar. The Old Witch's soul mocked the creature for its failures and madness, the Old King's soul grieved at the loss of a friend and fellow conspirator. And the dragon screamed back. A golden-white soul manifested in front of Erik from the sword, and it shot into him without warning.
This was not the first time. Or the second. Or third. Countless cycles had come and gone, yet one thing remained constant. Him.
He was the Dragon of the Forest, guardian of the peaceful land of Verdite. He was there when it all began, when the vile, hideous cycles started. For he was Seathe the White Dragon God, born from the soul of the world itself. He emerged from the depths of the woods, wielding a sword forged from the soul of the moon itself; the Moonlight Sword. Massive and radiating divine energy, it was the only weapon that could halt the spread of the Depravity caused by his dark other half, Gurya the Black Dragon God. Yet he was fooled. Gurya had tainted the Moonlight Sword ages ago in secret with his own essence, and in using it to slay the Black Dragon of Depravity unleashed a terrible curse. A curse of reincarnation. Never would the two dragons be free of each other. Forever would they live and be reborn to do battle with each other!
Over and over the two Dragon Gods fought, taking different forms and reincarnating. Verdite fell, and new lands rose. Their conflict spanned the world and sundered kingdoms and continents. In one battle, in the newly founded kingdom of Boleteria, Seathe thought he had finally won. But the Black Dragon escaped, and fled underground. There, at the source of all Life and Magic in the world, the Nexus, his Archenemy found something.
A being from beyond the moon and stars, an Old One who could sing the song of immortality so desired by the Black Dragon. Gurya tried to usurp this power, but the Old One was simply too powerful, even if it was in a death-like state. So the Dragon God of Darkness fell at last, not to his brother, but to something that hadn't even been aware it had vanquished a lesser being.
But that was not the end. The Old One stirred, it's 'fight' having stimulated what passed for a soul and mind, and when a foolish king dug too deep, it decided to awaken and see what all the fuss was about.
Boletaria fell. The Old One's might revived Gurya for but a brief moment, but as a demonic thing. Seathe, weary from the wars, had one final chance to stop everything. To end the infinite cycles he had found himself trapped within. All he had to do was take the tool that had started this whole mess, the Moonlight Sword, and end the Child from Beyond the Moon with it. But he failed.
The Maiden in Black, a sliver of Gurya's essence, tricked a champion to do it for her. Her plan, to seal the Old One and steal its power, failed. It had expended too much energy trying to wake up, and ancient wounds combined with the essence stolen by the foolhardy king finally laid it low. A corpse was sealed, rather than a living being.
Chaos reigned. The Old One, the Child from Beyond the Moon, had been a source of power for the world. It had been what had gifted souls to the world, the origin of life. Without it, humans and all creatures twisted, withered, and perished. They became weak, worthless beings, doomed to a grey world.
New creatures, which subsisted on these hollow husks, rose. In time, the Old Stone Dragons, elder beings which had ruled in a time lost to memory, returned, sensing the fight between their parents Seathe and Gurya finally complete. They reigned as gods over the bleak, twilight world.
For Seathe, this time was one of peace. The cycle was seemingly broken, his ancient foe laid to rest. So what if the world and its inhabitants were suffering? The curse was finally lifted!
But though he perished, Gurya was a fundamental force of reality. A seed was born in the Old One's corpse and using it, which was separate from the Old One's machinations, ignited the remains. The Corpse burned. It became a fire. The First Flame in fathomless years.
So it was that the cycle began anew, but draped in fire and Light instead of shadows. Gods were born in the flames, obtaining souls that were altered from being so close to the origin of life. The whole world was now stained by the curse of reincarnation.
Seathe, then known as the Scaleless, chose to side with the new gods and the First Flame over the dragons and the dull empty twilight peace. Though the cycle was wretched, he understood that without it Gurya would always continue to exist. His brother had trapped the world in a never ending loop, and if the First Flame went out, his old foe would rise once more. Better that the White Dragon control how the cycles operated than letting chance and idiots handle everything.
Yet he never gave up hope for a way to escape the misery of the cycles. The Failed Pale Dragon experimented constantly. Was there a way to escape the endless Cycle of Reincarnations and Karma? Must find an escape before the Old Ones return. The death cry of their sibling echoes through the stars. They hunger. They crave…There had to be an escape! There had to be. Had to be…
Erik screamed, loudly and in soul searing pain. Memories of a billion years rushed into him, filling his mind to bursting before wrapping around the newly obtained soul nestled beside the Old King and the Old Witch. Only Death remained unclaimed by Erik.
"By the gods, are you alright?!" Benhart cried, dropping his sword to the ground as Erik began to twitch and writhe. Rav'el rushed over as well, worried.
"The memories… the truth… I saw it all…" Erik whimpered, clutching his head.
"Estus! Now!" Vengarl commanded, and the knight of Jugo hastened to obey, pouring the contents of the glass bottle down onto Erik. Some of it managed to get into his mouth and the taste reflexively caused him to swallow. Soon, his spasms stilled and he lay panting.
"What happened?"
"I-I don't know," Erik admitted. "The soul of the dragon leapt from your sword into me, and I saw things. I saw… I can't remember. Everything is getting foggy when I try and recall it. There was a curse, though. Endless cycles. And a fire born from a god from beyond the stars…"
"Damn. Alright, let's go and find some place to rest for a bit," Benhart sighed, tossing Erik over one shoulder and carrying him to a room adjacent to the chamber. Not the one they'd come from, but another one that led deeper into the place.
What they found surprised them. A lavish room, filled with books and magical apparatus designed for arcane purposes. All of it somehow perfectly immaculate and free of dust or decay. A large desk covered in notes was in the middle, and in the center, looming over the desk, was a hunched and withered figure in fabulous robes.
"Duke Tseldora!" Vengarl hissed, and the man turned, alerted by the use of their name. A Hollow was what stared at them, dull eyes confused.
Rav'el stepped forward and contemptuously cut the noble in half. He didn't even put up a fight!
"That was… anti-climactic," Vengarl admitted. "I've been hoping for the day I could find him again, yet to see he was already broken just saps my fighting spirit."
"We still have your body to restore, Ven," Erik said softly, his head still throbbing with residual pain.
"True. I can feel the pull down that side tunnel. The rest of me is guarding some sort of Bonfire."
"Alright. Here's the plan…" Erik began weakly, and he explained the details to his comrades.
"Hey Vengarl's body! Catch!"
A giant headless human in tarnished red armor looked over in surprise from where it stood staring deeply into the Primal Bonfire. A small red object was being tossed at it. The thing felt… familiar. It reached out to slice it apart with its cleaver-like sword, but something glowed from within the head and a flash of golden light filled the room.
"I cannot believe that worked!" Benhart cried, surprised but happy none the less.
"I know, right? I feel like this shouldn't have happened," Vengarl mused, cracking his neck as he felt where he had fused back to his body. Erik just grunted and rolled his eyes.
The chef's plan had been simple. Make Vengarl's head drink a bit of estus, holding it in his mouth rather than swallowing it, and then throw the sucker at his body! The estus would react, and hopefully the bond between body and head would be recognized as a 'wound' and thus the liquid flames would reach out and restore the body.
That it had worked was a surprise. Honestly the others had just gone along with Erik's plan because they were tired and had no other ideas at the moment.
"Can you put me down? Thanks," Erik said happily. "Let's grab this thing and return to Majula!"
"I am not an Undead. I do not think I can travel with you," Rav'el said slowly.
"Maybe not through regular bonfires, but this is one of the originals! Try it out!" Erik said happily. His mood had steadily improved. Three consecutive successes had helped the chef put the incident with Creighton at the back of his mind for now. He had a feeling it would return full force sooner or later, but he could deal with it then.
With a smile on his face, Erik reached out for the hilt of the Bonfire…
And was sent hurtling into the wall by a wave of force that billowed out of the ancient flames.
The rest of his companions were knocked back as well, and everyone's eyes widened as they saw something black and twisted ooze out of the flames.
Like a mass of fire blackened roots, the thing was a vile, hungry force that had Darkness pouring off of it like mist. Shapes like bodies could be seen twisted and wrapped around, but also fused and broken and melded. Two 'eyes' of purest red stared out and sneered down at the Undead it had appeared before.
"No one has come this far for a very long while." The voice was loud and yet a whisper, with a burbling quality to it that made everyone who heard it sick to their stomach.
"Young hollow do you wish to shed this curse? Then accept the fate of your ilk and face the trials that await you. Unless, you have joined the crestfallen." A twisted laugh emerged from the monstrous form before them.
"What are you?" Erik gasped, fear forcing his body immobile. His souls were trembling, as if they knew what this thing was but could not quite recall…
"I am salvation, young Hollow. I am the key to obtaining freedom from the wretched curse," the entity said, grinning and chortling and oozing.
"There are but two paths. Inherit the order of this world, or destroy it.But only a true monarch can make such a choice. Very few indeed have come even this far. And yet your journey is far from over. Half-grown hollow, have you what it takes, truly?"
"Aldia!" Everyone's heads snapped towards Vengarl who had shouted. "I remember that voice! Is that truly you, Duke Aldia?!"
At that, the souls inside Erik screamed. Vengeance and justice! Vengeance and justice! Do not let this being escape! It must be punished!
"You bastard!" Erik screamed, his rage overpowering his fear. He leapt to his feet and snarled at the figure emerging from the bonfire.
"Hmph, it seems you are not quite worthy of my guidance. But fear not. In time, you will be ready," Aldia said with a sigh before starting to sink into the fires.
"Oh no you don't!" Erik shouted, reaching out towards the writhing mass of roots and darkness that had emerged from the flame. He tried to grab the deformed Aldia, but only managed to grasp the hilt of the Primal Bonfire. Boiling fire washed over the two of them and the duke let out a scream of surprise and pain.
"Let go! Release me!" Aldia roared, thrashing about, his tendrils flailing. One slammed into the restored Vengarl and sent him hurtling backwards into the chamber wall, another smacked Benhart to the ground before he could swing his restored blade.
"No! You've hurt too many people for me to allow you to escape!" Erik snarled, putting both hands around the burning sword. The fire grew brighter and then pain lanced through Erik, a burning sensation traveling up through his Fire Seed.
"No, no, no!" Aldia's screams downed out in an explosion of enchanted flames, and Erik felt himself get sucked into the Bonfire.
He tumbled for what felt like hours through a seemingly endless tunnel of orange and gold fire until everything suddenly turned black and he crashed violently into something soft and cold.
"Ugh," Erik groaned, pushing himself upwards. He shook his head, trying to clear a ringing sound out of his ears, and took a look around.
"Oh, fuck me," the chef swore. All around him was nothing but ice and snow as far as the eye could see. A soul piercing chill lay upon the landscape, and he could feel frost creeping up his limbs.
Glancing around he could see the remains of a Bonfire nearby, but it was dead, the fire gone out long ago and no amount of sparks would rekindle it. Shivering, Erik rose, a tiny flame dancing to life in the palm of his left hand.
Into the endless frozen wastes of Eleum Loyce he marched, trying to escape.