Bring. Me. Souls.

Hours later, he sat against a pillar, looking down at the injuries covering his body. It was odd, how neutral he had began to feel on these things. If he lost a limb, than oh well, death would bring another. Yet, at the same time, death itself could never be trivialized, because with each one he lost more.

And every second he stayed here, he lost more.

Especially now that he heard its voice, inside of him.

Souls.

Then he heard a shambling, stumbling walk up the stairs. He turned to see Ostrava, pulling himself up along the wall, while he hobbled toward him.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Nameless said.

"Then very well," said Ostrava, and sat down across from him. "But I wanted to speak to you personally. Biorr isn't always the best company."

"You should be resting, not wandering around the Nexus looking for people to have good conversations with," Nameless said.

"I was resting while you were fighting Garl Vinland. I feel I've earned some struggle on your behalf," Ostrava said.

Nameless grimaced.

"I just wanted to say, thank you," Ostrava said.

"For what?" Nameless said.

"For sparing us," said Ostrava. "For fighting with us...for going on when we couldn't."

"...You're thanking me for that?" Nameless asked, and was actually confused.

"Yes," Ostrava said. "It seemed like you went through a lot, with how you reacted when you came back. You deserve to be appreciated."

"I don't want to be appreciated for that," Nameless said, quietly.

"What happened?" Ostrava asked.

Nameless looked away, "they were good people. Despite...everything, somehow, they were. They were trying to make the swamp a better place to live...but I...I came in, and I destroyed it. That's what you do with a sword, I guess. You destroy. It's all you can do."

"You did what you had to," Ostrava said. "If Astraea had stayed there, in that swamp, the Old One would have consumed everything, with her assistance. With her dead, there's only one Archdemon left...and once it's gone, it'll have no more servants. It'll be paralyzed."

Or it'll try to get new ones. Nameless thought, but said, "the truth is...I understand what they were doing. I understand why they were doing it. I said to myself 'to hell with this world' once, and I meant it. And they felt the same, but not only that, while they were rejecting the world, they were also trying to make it better. They were working to make the last days of the people in that swamp tolerable. But what will the world be like once the Old One is gone? Boletaria will still be decimated. Nothing will be fixed. The problem will just be stopped...but they, they were trying to fix things."

Ostrava seemed struck at the mention of Boletaria's decimation, as if it wasn't something he had considered before. Finally, he said, "you can't afford to think that way. The world can be fixed without the Old One."

"Can it?" Nameless said. "If the Old One is the most powerful being in existence, can it, really?"

"I understand," Ostrava said. "But I think that it's worth it to keep fighting, even if we're up against the closest thing to god...especially when we're so close."

It doesn't feel like we're close at all, he thought. Perhaps because he was so exhausted. One more archdemon didn't seem like the final chapter of a book. It seemed more daunting than all the ones that had come before it combined. He was so tired, and he just needed this to all be over.

But what then, when it was over? What then for him?

You are a wretched thing, no longer human or demon, no longer even a phantom, and you will never find the solace that you seek. All that you have done, or will do, is destroy.

He remembered Astraea's words, and he almost broke inside again, because of how true they felt.

"You should forgive her," Ostrava asked.

"Who?" Nameless said, he'd been thinking of Astraea.

"The Candle Maiden," said Ostrava. "She...reacts to you, a certain way, I can see it. She wants to help you."

"There's a lot of history here that you don't know about, Ostrava," Nameless said, in a warning tone.

"I figured," he said. "But...you can't afford to stay this angry at her."

"She wouldn't bring someone I loved back from the dead. She brought me back countless times. She wouldn't bring someone else back once."

"I was under the impression that you wouldn't wish those experiences on anyone," he said.

"She manipulated me. Everything that is happening to me right now is her fault."

Ostrava looked straight at him. "Are you just assuming that, or have you talked to her?"

Nameless said nothing.

"I'm just telling you that...well...you want to find answers about who you were, right? About what's going on? She was here before anyone else."

Nameless shook his head. "She doesn't answer my questions."

"But again: how long has it been since you've asked them?"

Nameless finally admitted, "A long time."

"Just give her a chance," Ostrava said. "That's all that I'm asking."

"And what do you get out of that?" Nameless asked.

"What?" Ostrava asked.

"If I talk to her, if we get along again. What do you get from that?"

"...I get to see you happy, because you're my friend," Ostrava said, as if it were the most basic thing in the world.

Nameless looked at him, confused.

"Do you...do you even understand someone trying to help you?"

"Not anymore."

"Then that's the biggest tragedy of all."

There was a silence between them.

Then, Ostrava started to pull himself up against the pillar he was leaning on.

"Where are you going?" Nameless asked.

"Biorr's probably awake by now," Ostrava said. "He'll wonder where I am, and get overprotective."

Nameless nodded, and then, before Ostrava managed to stumble off, said, "Thank you."

"Hmm?" Ostrava said.

"I said thank you...for talking to me, like this. Even though I almost killed you."

Ostrava smiled. "You weren't going to kill me."

Nameless tried to argue but then stopped when he realized it himself. No, I really wasn't going to at all.

Ostrava walked away.

Another hour passed, at least, though time was hard to tell in the Nexus. He was exhausted.

Just as he was about to doze off, another voice interrupted, "Hast thou calmed thyself?"

He wanted to shout out 'no.' He wanted to attack her, to scream at her, to fight her away until she never came back again. But he remembered Ostrava's words...and even aside from that, he just didn't have the energy, anymore.

"Yes," he said, in lieu of anything else.

She crept up the stairs, and he caught her golden anklet as she reached him, how similar it was to his own nexial binding.

"May I see thy wounds?" she asked.

He nodded, and barely grimaced as she tended to his leg. Pain was too familiar. It was no longer extraordinary.

"Where did you get your jewelry?" he asked.

"From many places," she said.

He looked down to the dark stone, and ran his hand along it. It was so cold.

"I ask because you wrap yourself in bandages," he said. "You don't even have clothes...but you have gold, and pearls."

She nodded.

"Where is Freke?" he asked her.

"He fledeth the Nexus," was all she said.

"Why?"

"I scared him."

"Why?"

"He knoweth not the danger in his trifles."

"So that's one more friend I've lost, because of you," he said, quietly.

Her mouth quivered for a moment, and then she went back to working.

They were quiet for a very long time. In the back of his mind, he heard it. It made him want to cut his skull open.

"Ist thou...angered, at me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

"Why?"

"Because you treated me like a pawn, and not a human being. Because you sent me through gauntlets of endless torture, where I died over and over again, and didn't even tell me why. Because you're trying to turn me into an Archdemon, without my consent."

"I wish for no such thing," she said.

"Well, it's happening," he said.

"I only ever tried to help thee. To serve and protect thee, to respect thee."

"Then to hell with your respect. Your hatred would be less destructive."

She whimpered. It gave him satisfaction that he immediately felt guilty for. He then chastised himself for his guilt. She deserved it. She always had.

"At least tell me why," he said. "Can you do that? Tell me why you want to do this to me?"

"We will do nothing to thee," she said.

"But I can hear it," he said. "I can hear it in the back of my mind, begging me to serve it. It's so desperate and so hungry and it sounds like...it sounds like..."

"A weeping babe," she finished.

He looked up at her for the first time. "Yes, that's exactly what it sounds like."

She nodded. "Thou wilt learn to live under the Old One's pressure, as I have. As so many others have."

"You were a demon, weren't you?" he asked her.

"...Yes."

"An Archdemon?"

"In some ways," she said.

"How were you not?" he asked.

She frowned.

"I don't understand," he said. "Why can't you just answer my questions, why do you have to hide things?"

"I never intended to hide-"

"But you are!" he yelled, suddenly.

"I...I can not explain it," she murmured. "That beith why. I am sorry."

He breathed deeply, and there was a pause before she began wrapping his now splinted leg. He gave off a single hiss of pain, but that was it.

"Can you try to explain?" he asked. "At the very least, what is going to happen to me...please."

He didn't know whether she was going to say anything at all, as he never could, and then she answered, "Once the Archdemons are vanquished, the Old One shall seeketh a new servant. It shall ventureth to us of its own accord. Already, it desireth thee, and this is a part of the plan. We shall meet it, and then we shall lull it back to its slumber."

"So you aren't trying to turn me into an Archdemon?" he asked.

"No. But thou shalt hear the Old One's cries, and for this I am sorry."

Relief blew through him, and he decided, now, that since she was being honest, he might be able to press it.

"What is the Old One?" he asked. "What are you?"

"On the first day, man was granted a soul, and with it, clarity. On the second day, upon Earth was planted an irrevocable poison. A soul devouring Demon."

"...I don't understand," he said. "That contradicts the scriptures."

"Doth it?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "And while I've come to doubt them for obvious reasons, there's one problem...there is no god."

She cocked her head at him. "Who spoketh such nonsense?"

For the first time in that conversation, his eyes widened in shock, "what?"

"There hath always been a God," she said. "Perhaps thou dost not understand."

"And how do I understand?" he asked. "Make me understand. Please. Because I just...I don't understand anything anymore."

She frowned deeply.

"I killed them," he said. "Garl, and Astraea, I killed them for no reason. And you aren't even giving me one. I respect them, more than I respect you. In a world of shit, they were trying to do good things. But they're gone, I ended that...and I don't know why."

"I can tell thee everything," she said.

"You can?"

"Yes...but thou must trust me," she said.

"That's a tall order, right now," he said.

"Thou must, or thine answers shall never be found," she said.

She finished tending to his wounds, and her face turned toward him. He remembered, once, when he had trusted her, when she had been the only thing that he had fought for. It felt like it had been so long ago.

"...What do you want me to do?" he asked her.

She came very close, and said, in a tone more intimate than any he had ever heard, "I want thee to walkst within my soul."

"...What?"

She placed her hands on his.

"I can not explain. Wilst thou trust me?"

He looked down at her gentle hands, and then back up at her face, so hard to decipher without her eyes. He tried to recall the things that he had felt before the suspicion, before the hatred, before the abuse, and found, remaining, the tiniest spark. Perhaps in an hour it would be gone, and then he would hate her again, but for now, he remembered serving her.

He remembered when he had loved her.

"...Yes," he said. "Yes. I will trust you." One last time.

She smiled, so widely that she almost grinned, and took his hand, then placed it against her heart.

"Then touch the demon inside me."

He closed his eyes, and concentrated, and felt her heartbeat, slow, but steady. He felt his own slow down, and then sync up with it. And as he had so many times before, he connected to the raw power that seemed to irradiate from her core.

And then, they weren't there anymore.

Sage Freke shambled through the ruined city, redolant with the smell of burnt humans. He tried not to cough up whatever he had last eaten, but he didn't remember what it was. In the fog, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed. He only knew that it had been too long.

Yet, strangely, he had yet to be attacked by any demons.

Perhaps his method of travel had something to do with that. He slinked around buildings, peeked around corners, and kept to the shadows.

His goal was to find somewhere, anywhere, to continue his experiments. After that, he didn't know what. He'd figure out a way to strike back? He'd do something, certainly. His options depended on what his research revealed. For now, though, one step at a time. Find a safe place, then experiment, and decide where to go from there.

That was when he felt it breathing down his neck.

He turned, instantly, spells at the ready, to see a fat minister, standing there. It held up its polearm, but it didn't raise it to attack.

Freke waited, but it didn't charge.

Instead, it raised up its hand, and beckoned to him.

He stood there for a moment, stupefied, and watched as it turned around and walked away.

I could just shoot it, he thought. It knows that, doesn't it?

The thing bekoned to him again, without turning around. He finally gave in, and took a step forward, then followed it out of the alleyway.

They wandered through the city, and passed by other demons. None of them attacked him. Every single one of them watched, though, as the minister led him through the town. He stumbled after it, trying to think of what to say or do. Was it just leading him to his death? Nonsense, there were enough demons standing around and watching to kill him at any moment.

But were they demons?

He then remembered the results of his research up until now. Even the soulless were still human beings. Even the dreglings, in some way. The only difference between a man and many of these things is that their souls had been stolen, explaining their animalistic behavior. But for the stronger demons, like the ministers, who still had souls, there was no difference. The creature that he was following was, for all intents and purposes, a man.

This was what he thought as he followed him. A man, like any other.

The minister led him up a staircase, and then turned into a room. He followed, and when he entered it he almost laughed out loud.

The minister was standing there, watching him. In front of him was a desk, and the familiar glow of soul augites came from the top of it.

"You aren't serious," Freke said out loud. "You can't be."

But the minister just kept watching him, with its smile. It turned around, and then walked away.

Freke approached the desk, and then ran his hands through the augites. There were so many, so very many. They were stacked on top of eachother, and they were packed with soul power.

Freke chuckled to himself as he touched them, and felt the spark of energy. Demons are just humans with soul power. He reminded himself. I'm already a demon. Every mage is already a demon.

So what harm was there in working with them?

And then, in the back of his mind, he heard the voice.

Bring...me.

What?

Bring me. Souls. Bring me souls.

Freke took a moment to process the voice, realize who it was coming from, and then laughed.

"If you continue to provide me with these kinds of tools, I'd be happy to."

Well, this story is finally back on track.

When I continue, I will be telling something similar to the plot I had originally planned out, that focused a lot more on the Maiden in Black, before the whole thing got larger and more complicated. That means that yes, MiB fans, you will finally have your day.

But that's when I continue.

And as it's looking, that may not be until next Spring/Summer. Yes 6-7 months from now.

When I return, however, I'll stick through to the end, which isn't very far from here. This story is about 2/3 complete, but the last third is going to be so explosive that it might end up having to be longer than a third just because of how many loose ends I need to tie up. Not to worry, I know exactly how I'm going to tie them up, and the ending for every single character and subplot is in my head. It's just a matter of how long it all takes.

So not to worry, Sir Broodsalot and friends will be back, and you will see the ends of their stories. You will find out what the Maiden in Black is up to, along with who, exactly, she is, what the Old One is, etc. etc. I'll preface everything that will follow (six months in advance) by saying that much of what I'll be writing from here on out is not strictly canon. It is, however, my interpretation of canon, consistent with every item description and conversation, without veering off into unlikely scenarios that the game doesn't even hint at.

And, in lieu of anything else to say, Auf Wiedersehn. Hope you enjoyed this story. Tell your friends about it, spread the word. Hopefully there will be a large reception when I come back. I know that the Demon's Souls fandom is out there.

I am telling you to Bring me souls.