Beyond The Veil

Volume I - Chapter II

It had been a close call... far closer than what he would've preferred.

The three children — each one a Vulpo, if he remembered correctly — had found themselves at the mercy of the unknown that had pursued them relentlessly through the damp and winding labyrinth of the sewer. The air had been thick with the stench of decay — a foul miasma that had clung to the tunnel's moist walls like a sinister shadow. The children's faces had been etched with terror, their eyes wide and filled with despair as the creatures loomed ever closer, their grotesque forms had seemed to blur the lines between the abominations that had pursued them and the beasts that had spawned from the nightmarish depths of the Abyss — their bodies twisted and misshapen, their eyes pools of darkness that absorbed all light like voids.

Their snarling, contorted visages shared eerie similarities with the creatures he had battled; crystal shards protruded from their hulking bodies, while their mouths dripped with a viscous ichor that oozed from between jagged teeth... and yet, something about those beings had struck him as odd. Despite the immediate threat that he had posed, they had seemed inexplicably fixated on the children — as if some inscrutable force had bound their malevolence to the three young souls.

Nevertheless, he had been quick to react, his body moving with a grace born of countless battles as he stepped forward, interposing himself between the abominations and the children…

Their first clash had been ferocious, his halberd cleaving through the air with lethal precision as he struck down one of the horrors, its monstrous form reduced to a grotesque ruin with a single, devastating blow. He had moved with a fluidity that defied his imposing figure, his every movement a testament to his honed combat skills. The ethereal power of his blood code had surged through his veins, amplifying his strength and granting him an uncanny advantage over his foes.

With each swing of his weapon, the hulking monstrosities had disintegrated, their grotesque forms crumbling into ashen remnants that swirled and dissipated into the cold, damp air. The stench of their decay had intensified as they met their demise, a pungent smell that would've had made him sick had it not been for the mask he had worn. The fiery light of his blood arts had painted the tunnel with a surreal, otherworldly glow, casting elongated shadows that danced and flickered on the walls as he pressed his attack — lines of fracture had appeared on the floor, their surface alight as he turned the entire area into a battlefield of searing destruction.

That the two children — the boy and the girl — had decided to make their way to their fallen elder brother's side amidst the chaos had only made the entire fight easier for him; the young boy had been clutching his wounded leg, his face contorted with pain as he limped alongside his sister. Their footsteps, though timid and hesitant, had carried a note of desperation that seemed to drive them forward with unwavering resolve.

He knew that their actions were borne of raw concern and desperation, their young hearts yearning to check on his condition. The girl's hair had been matted with sweat and grime, her cheeks streaked with tears as she knelt beside the wounded boy, her trembling hands reaching out to touch at his cheek. The younger boy, his face contorted with pain, had managed to force a weak smile, a fragile attempt to reassure his sister, his lips quivering as he whispered words of comfort. The gash on his leg — an ugly, ragged wound — still oozed a mixture of blood and grime, and yet his focus had remained on his sibling's well-being; he had brushed away his sister's tears, telling her that he would be fine and that she shouldn't worry.

It was certainly something to admire — the unwavering bond between the siblings, even in the face of such dire circumstances. They had faced horrors that would have undoubtedly shaken even the bravest of adults, yet they clung to their hope and each other, showing a resilience that was both heartwarming and heartbreaking.

Regardless, it took him barely a few seconds to reach their side... and with the last of the abominations vanquished in a fiery explosion of ash and crystal, he turned his attention to the children. His gaze had fallen upon the two, their fragile frames huddled together amidst the chaos of their surroundings. Their eyes, wide and filled with a mixture of awe and fear, had locked onto him, their lips parting in astonishment. He had lowered his halberd — the blade gleaming with residual heat — his crimson eye studied them with a mixture of curiosity and concern. It wasn't often that he found himself in the presence of such innocent souls, and their presence had stirred something within him — a strange mixture of nostalgia and empathy.

"... a-are you a Knight?"

The question had been the first thing that had tumbled from the girl's lips — spoken in a language that is surprisingly familiar to him — her voice quivering with a mix of awe and uncertainty; her bright eyes — a stark contrast to the grim surroundings — had regarded him with a blend of curiosity and hope, her gaze shaken yet unwavering as she searched his face for answers.

He had crouched beside them — his movement deliberate yet gentle — his single, visible eye locked onto the girl's own, its gaze unwavering as he studied her with a profound intensity. The younger boy had watched him with a mixture of trepidation and gratitude, his injured leg trembling beneath his weight... yet even so, the revenant knew that the boy's condition was precarious at best — his complexion had grown alarmingly pale, his wound seeping with infection that threatened to consume him from within. The older boy, his arm grotesquely broken with bone protruding from his elbow, seemed to be suffering from internal injuries, his labored breaths filled with pain.

"... no, I am not a Knight," he had replied in a voice that was surprisingly gentle — even if it was slightly raspy — his words measured and calm, as if he had been an island of serenity amidst the chaos. "I am... different; a Revenant..."

The girl had blinked in surprise at his words, her brows furrowed in confusion, her canine ears twitching almost imperceptibly as she tried to comprehend the meaning behind his words. The boy had simply nodded, his pain-filled gaze filled with understanding and gratitude as he clung to his sister for support.

With a slow and deliberate motion, he had reached out to the two children, his gloved hands gentle as he checked their conditions. His touch had been cool and calculating, his fingers deftly probing their injuries as he assessed the extent of their wounds. The boy's leg had been a priority, the amount of blood he had lost a pressing concern that demanded immediate attention. He had murmured words of reassurance to the young boy, his voice a soothing balm to the child's frayed nerves despite the enticing metallic scent of blood that had long since pervaded his senses. The girl, on the other hand, had been relatively unscathed — physically, at least — her clothes were torn and soiled from their desperate flight through the sewer, yet there were no visible injuries that the revenant had been able to discern. Nonetheless, the trauma of their ordeal had definitely left its mark on her — the girl's trembling hands and haunted gaze a testament to the emotional toll it had taken.

Two out of three would require immediate medical attention, though unfortunately for him, he had lacked both the necessary supplies and the expertise to treat their wounds properly in the dingy, perilous depths of the sewer... and considering the extent of their injuries, time was a luxury they could not afford. Regardless, as much as he had tried to deny it, he knew that the odds were grim, which is why he had decided to act the way he did.

Now... now he walked amidst the dimly lit labyrinth of the sewer, three young lives in his hands, or rather, one in his right hand, and another perched precariously upon his shoulder; his wounded leg had been carefully covered with a makeshift bandage, the lack of resources for proper medical care within the sewer's depths forcing the Revenant to crafted the item with strips of torn fabric from his own shirt, ensuring that the boy's injury would not worsen during their precarious journey. The girl — the least injured among the three — clutched at his long coat with a small, trembling hand. Her fingers — pale and delicate against the Blood Veil — gripped with a desperation that mirrored the intensity of her gaze, her petite form swaying slightly with each step that she took. He could hear her heartbeat through his enhanced senses; a rapid, frantic rhythm that resonated with the fear and anticipation that coursed through her veins.

"Um... I-I think... I think we should go left, then uh... a stair? M-maybe..." The girl's voice quivered as she tried to guide him through the labyrinth of tunnels, her words hesitant yet determined; in her free hand was a small piece of moldy bread, a meager offering she had extended earlier, promising it to him in exchange for his help even though he had politely declined with a gentle shake of his head — a decision made not out of disdain, but rather because he had no need for such sustenance as a Revenant.

"... alright."

His boots echoed softly against the damp stone floor as they followed the girl's guidance, his eyes continuing to scan their surroundings with a keen vigilance as he adjusted his grip on the halberd; the weapon felt 'out of place' in his left hand, and considering the current condition of the aforementioned limb, he had to be exceedingly careful in handling it.

"We... we're almost there," the girl's grip on his coat grew weaker as they began to ascend a narrow, winding stairwell carved into the rock, her voice gaining a momentary vigor as she led them through the twisting passages — her words carried with them a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Just a little farther..."

While he appeared to rely on the girl's guidance, his enhanced senses had long since picked up on the signs of their surroundings. The subtle shifts in air pressure, the echoes of distant sounds, and the faintest traces of moisture on the walls; all these sensory cues painted a vivid map of the sewer in his mind. He could sense the presence of lurking creatures — spectral auras that seemed to cling to the damp air — their whispers barely audible but registering as a faint chorus in his heightened perception.

Nevertheless, there is little he could do even with the aid of his Blood Codes — ineffective as they were — and to rush now would only serve to jeopardize the fragile lives he had taken upon himself to protect; the children's wounds were severe, and any sudden movements might exacerbate their injuries...

Their journey through the labyrinthine tunnels was a slow, painstaking ordeal, marked by the eerie glow of luminescent mushrooms clinging to the walls like ethereal lanterns. The dampness of the sewer clung to their clothes, and the stench of decay continued to assault their senses. He maintained a measured pace, each step calculated and precise, ensuring the safety of his young charges while the girl continued to guide him through the labyrinthine tunnels — her trust in him palpable despite the darkness that loomed around them. His crimson and cerulean eyes remained vigilant, darting from shadow to shadow, ever watchful for any lurking threats that might finally decide to emerge from the inky depths.

As they continued their ascent through the winding stairwell, the air gradually grew cooler and less oppressive, the foul scent of the sewer slowly giving way to the musty aroma of rusting steel and damp earth; with each step, the faint tremors grew distant, replaced by the soft echoes of their own footfalls against the stone steps. The passage became much more narrow, the walls pressing in around them. Seconds turned into minutes as they continued their ascent. The air grew colder, carrying whispers of forgotten echoes and the distant drip of water; the faint glow that came from the moss on the walls became less frequent, casting the tunnel into a dimly lit gloom.

Finally, as they emerged from the cramped, winding stairwell, a large, cavernous chamber greeted them — a makeshift settlement nestled within the bowels of the sewer...

The chamber was filled with the soft glow of small fires that flickered within crude metal braziers, their light casting wavering shadows upon the walls. Makeshift tents and hovels had been erected along the chamber's edges, fashioned from scavenged materials as well as old rags. The inhabitants, a motley assortment of weary survivors, moved about with a sense of quiet determination; their faces bore the scars of hardship, their eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and hope. They paid little heed to his arrival and that of the children — sparing nothing more than a curious glance — their attention focused on the tasks of survival.

Their presence had blended seamlessly with the community, becoming one with the ebb and flow, though he did find it odd that none of them even tried to make a fuss regarding the appearance of his arm. Nonetheless, it did not take long for him to find one of the children's parents within the makeshift settlement. Their mother, a kind-eyed woman with a determined spirit, had been tending to the sick, her gentle hands offering comfort and solace to those in need. Her worn uniform spoke volumes about the countless lives she had touched and healed in these grim surroundings. Her eyes had widened as she took in the sight of her three children — the wear and tear evident on their young bodies — before the young girl rushed forward, embracing her mother tightly as her tears flowed freely.

'Parents...' A fleeting sense of pain shot through his heart when he tried to remember, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his halberd as he watched the two boys continue to lay on the makeshift beds, their wounds a stark contrast against the pallor of their skin.

The entire scene had been... nostalgic, in a sense, even if the Revenant could no longer remember his own parents. He couldn't even remember their faces... or even something as simple as their names.

"I... w-we... we don't have enough," she began, her voice pulling him away from his thoughts; the woman's tone was laced with worry and desperation as she examined her two injured sons, her voice quivering with every word. "I... t-they need proper treatment, but..." Her voice trailed off, a deep frown etched across her face. The worry lines that creased her forehead seemed to deepen with each passing moment, revealing the immense burden that weighed on her heart. "There's a shortage of medical supplies! And... and the others haven't been able to find any for weeks! W-what should I do!?"

The young girl sat at her brothers' bedside, her eyes downcast, her knuckles white as she clutched the edge of the makeshift bed — her small frame trembled with a mixture of fear and concern for her brothers. He could see the turmoil in her gaze, a silent plea for reassurance and hope. Nevertheless, the Revenant retained his gaze on the woman before him, his expression thoughtful yet unwavering. He had seen resilience in many forms during his countless battles in the past, but this mother's determination to care for her children in such dire circumstances had somehow struck a chord within him.

It was... an odd sensation, for the woman only did what any devoted parent would do for their children, yet even so...

Still, should he really involve himself further in their plight? To offer his assistance — uncertain as he was — to a stranger that he had just met barely a few minutes ago? Their problem should not be his concern, this was a place foreign to him — filled with faces he didn't know and a past he couldn't even remember — yet his eyes shifted from the family to the settlement around them. He took in the haggard faces of those seeking refuge here, the fragile hope that flickered in their eyes. It was a familiar scene, one he'd witnessed countless times in different forms, in different places; the struggling and the hurting, the desperate search for a glimmer of light in the encroaching darkness...

'Please... save everyone...'

A mirthless smile made its way onto his lips, his expression hidden behind his mask as the words surfaced in his mind; the words of a young woman who had suffered for so long yet still found it within herself to ask for something so... selfless. He remembered her voice, gentle and steadfast as she stood before him in that space of pure white void, her eyes locked onto his own with what could only be described as an unwavering resolve.

Her final wish had been a solemn charge to him, a plea that continued to echo in his heart...

Memories of a distant past flooded his mind, tugging at the fringes of his consciousness like fragments of a dream slipping through his fingers. He recalled the selfless sacrifices and unwavering determination of those he had lost along the way — their faces, their voices, their final moments — it was a symphony of ghosts that haunted the recesses of his fractured memory. The Queen had believed in his strength, in his capacity to protect and save those in need, yet as if to mock her faith in him, here he stood, hesitating in the face of that responsibility.

'What a joke...' He thought, a bitter irony tinged his emotions; the weight of his uncertainty bore down on him, his thoughts a tempestuous whirlwind of conflicting desires before they were swept away with a gentle shake of his head.

"Ha..." With a heavy exhale, he approached the mother, his steps measured and deliberate. The mask he wore concealed his expression, yet it did nothing to hide the quiet determination that radiated from his demeanor. "Excuse me, is there…" He couldn't help but pause as the woman turned to him, her eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and hope, her hands trembling all the while. A single glance at that face, that… desperation, and the Revenant knew that his decision was made. "Is there something... anything I can do to help?"

He coiled his sinewy frame, his powerful leg tensing like taut springs beneath the layers of his dark clothing. Distant echoes of approaching footsteps reverberated through the narrow sewer tunnel, growing steadily louder with each passing second. The faint light that filtered down from the chamber above flickered with the motion of their sources, and with an almost imperceptible nod, he surged forward, a mist of darkness enveloping him in an ephemeral shroud.

In a blur of motion, he launched himself towards the manhole cover, his body propelled by the sheer force of his explosive strength. His muscles strained and surged with power, while time itself seemed to slow for a fraction of a heartbeat as he ascended, the world a swirling blur of shadows and muted echoes. With a fluidity that defied gravity, he twisted in mid-air, his body arcing gracefully through the opening. His senses registered the cool rush of air against his skin, carrying with it the distant scents of earth and decay; his gloved fingers brushing against the rusted metal edges of the manhole, the tactile sensation a fleeting anchor in the midst of his acrobatic flight.

He continued to soar, his form a fluid silhouette against the backdrop of the cold, starless night. His cloak billowed around him like a dark mantle, settling around his figure in a sinuous dance, the veil of fog-like essence that enveloped him shimmered and shifted, merging seamlessly with the surrounding darkness, rendering him an ethereal specter in the moonless night.

The Revenant could feel the texture of the cold, wet stone beneath his boots as he alighted upon the ledge of an empty balcony, his landing as silent as the falling of a feather. The muted glow of distant streetlights cast a pallid wash upon the surrounding buildings, their towering silhouettes etched against the canvas of the night. His breath came steady, an almost imperceptible rhythm of controlled exhales as he crouched, his eyes watching the two individuals walking and conversing on the ground below.

'What a sorry sight...'

Their forms swayed with an unsteady rhythm — like reeds caught in a gentle breeze — the unmistakable aroma of alcohol wafted up to him, a pungent cloud that hung around them like a shroud. Their speech was slurred, words tumbling from their lips in a disjointed cadence, punctuated by bouts of boisterous laughter that echoed through the deserted alley; their faces were painted with the flush of inebriation, their eyes glazed and unfocused. Tattered clothes clung to their forms — remnants of a dignity long abandoned — as they leaned on each other for support, their limbs tangled in a drunken waltz of camaraderie.

"... s'what I'm tellin' ya. Saw it myself, I did," mumbled the first man, his voice thick and uneven; he shifted, his hand fumbling for the half-empty bottle that lay inside his pocket. "A lot o' figures... all cloaked and... and mysterious, ya know? Slippin' to the sewer like rats."

"You're off yer rocker..." The other one emitted a low, derisive chuckle, one arm draped over his eyes as if shielding them from an unseen glare. "Probably just a cat or somethin'... or the infected!"

"Nay! I swear it! Had a... had weapons with 'em, I tell ya. Like... like those handheld... nah, I mean like those bowguns... I mean crossbows!" The first drunkard slurred further, his breath hitching with a drunken hiccup.

"Sureee... whatever ya say, buddy!"

The Revenant's brows furrowed beneath his mask, the conversation registering in his heightened senses. It was... an odd exchange, cryptic yet intriguing all the same. Nonetheless, he turned his gaze away from the inebriated pair, shifting his attention towards the yawning expanse of the city beyond. The distant hum of urban life reached his ears — a steady undercurrent of activity, punctuated by the occasional distant shout or clatter of machinery — while the skyline was a jagged collage of structures, their forms reaching skyward in stark defiance of the encroaching darkness.

With a fluid, almost imperceptible motion, he uncoiled from his crouched position; his boots made no sound as they scraped against the smooth surface of the roof, his leg moving with a predatory grace as he moved towards the edge. The city reflected in his mismatched eyes, glimmers of artificial light dancing in their depths like distant stars.

His gaze swept over the cityscape, taking in the intricate vista of life that wove through its streets and alleyways. He could make out the neon signs that flickered with garish allure, each a siren's call to the denizens of the night; in the distance, the skyline was pierced by the looming silhouette of what appeared to be a grand cathedral, its spires reaching towards the heavens in solemn reverence; the stained glass windows caught the ambient light, casting prismatic hues across the cobbled courtyard below.

'... a civilization beyond the Gaol of the Mists... or was it truly?'

For a moment, he allowed himself to simply be, to absorb the city's essence as it sprawled before him, a living entity of its own; the ambient noises, the distant sirens, the rhythmic hum of machinery, all merged into a symphony of urban life. It was a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere of the Vein that he had originated from, a reminder of the world outside, teeming with its own struggles and stories.

He stood at the edge, a solitary sentinel in the sea of towering structures, each one a testament to the indomitable spirit of humanity. The night air was cool against his skin, carrying with it the scent of damp pavement and the subtle undertones of forgotten rain. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, his crimson and azure eyes absorbing the myriad details of the city's silhouette. The two orbs remained impassive, yet they held a subtle hint of contemplation... and in that quiet moment, he felt like an observer of a world both familiar and foreign, a witness to lives he could scarcely comprehend.

The city below pulsed with its own heartbeat, an intricate tapestry woven from the lives of countless souls; each flickering light, each distant echo, told a story of aspirations, struggles, and triumphs. From this vantage point, he could see the ebb and flow of humanity, the interplay of light and shadow that painted the urban canvas; it was a world teeming with life, with its own brand of chaos and order... its own victories and defeats.

His thoughts swirled like a tempest within his masked visage; the enigma of this place, so different from the world he had known, tugged at the fringes of his consciousness. It was as if a forgotten memory, a distant echo of something familiar that danced just beyond his grasp...

'... if only the others could see this.' He shook himself free of the thoughts, the momentary reverie fading like a wisp of smoke in the wind. His focus returned, honed and resolute, his dual-colored gaze narrowing as he turned his attention towards the building in the distance: a giant red-cross emblazoned upon its side.

With a small and lithe step, he allowed himself to be consumed by the shadows once more, his form melding seamlessly with the night. Like a phantom, he vanished from the rooftop, leaving behind only a fleeting echo of his presence...

Proofreading and Editing by FargoneMyth/sadron.

Author's Note: I actually managed to find the time to write~ Just a short chapter, though… and it's not that good since I tried to rush it. The fighting scene is pretty much non-existent in this chapter. Anyway, gotta go~ Hope you enjoy the chapter, and as always, remember not to be too harsh with your review~!

Disclaimer: Code Vein belongs to Bandai Namco; Arknights belongs to Hypergryph Network.

Next Update: Star's Salvation: Lost Echoes followed by TBA.

JuanCS BoilingPoints30: Thanks~

Neoyle: Ah, unfortunately, you'll have to wait until the end of the second volume. Well, there's also a bit of a reaction at the end of the first… still, you'll have to wait~

Felli Lostbelt: Here you go~ Apologies in advance if it doesn't meet my usual writing standard :D