The sky was empty, save for lifeless clouds, bits of ash in the air, and a hollowed sun that watched the dreg heap below. Nothing grew, and almost nothing truly died. All the while as ruins of every age, and every cycle all turned and twisted upon each other towards the world's end. Towards the ringed city.

It was a sign to many that, after all the great tides of human enterprise and divine will, it was all for nought.

Gael wrote with his orange soapstone, the markings bleeding across all of time for others to read. Hopefully, for the Ashen one to one day read one day as well. He was placing everything on them, all of his hopes, and whatever he had left of a dream. For if he failed, and there was no one to stop him, then there would be no hope for a future away from the cycle. A future far away from this world of endless disparity.

Grunting like the old man he was, Gael rose as he put away the orange soapstone before looking down at the ash pile below. Normally the path he was taking would be lethal without a doubt. But thanks to the dreg heap of the world being filled with so much ash, to the point of piles building up so much that they could provide cushioning, it was not the case.

With a deep breath, the old slave knight jumped down. The moment he landed in the thick ashen pile, he was completely submerged in it briefly before he pushed himself up. Then, holding tight to his executioner sword and sunset shield, Gael walked on.

Normally when an undead was standing where he was standing, they would have the strength to easily stand against any danger. But the dreg heap was a dangerous place, too dangerous for him.

The weakest of creatures here, even when alone, was a grave threat for one such as Gael. But he had to press on, for his Lady. For her painting.

Suddenly, as Gael walked on through the ashen ground, a bright light shined from the heavens as a creature appeared before him. Their body was an amalgamation of roots, wood, and insect parts. Its face was like that of both a human and some sort of inner insect hive with a branch sticking out to the side. Its lower body an abdomen with multiple thin legs and things that looked like roots that dangled lifelessly in the air. And its wings seemingly made out of veins.

It was an angel, and it cared not for Gael. With an inhuman roar, it unclasped its hands and shot out countless arrows of light at Gael.

Slightly caught off guard, Gael quickly began to run as the volley of arrows rained down on him. If Gael stopped for a moment, the light would tear him apart.

As if some sort of miracle, there was a nearby and old stone building connected to what appeared to be a ruined chapel. He didn't have time to think, so he dashed behind the building and leaned against the wall for cover as the beams of light rammed into the other side of the building repetitively. But then after a while, it stopped firing and began to make a groaning noise.

Gael could hear the slight sound of its wings moving and knew it was looking about for him.

Suddenly from the ground underneath him, the boney arms of a murkman rose and grabbed onto Gael's feet. They began to pull and bring down into the ground with them. Gael began to struggle from their surprisingly strong grip, his strength seeping out of him. He felt himself getting weaker and weaker as he struggled, his lower body completely submerged into the ground.

But with all of his might, Gael managed to pull himself up and kick away the murkman, stunning it for a moment. Then with a swing of his executioner sword, Gael attacked the humanoid creature.

However Gael was not a strong undead, and so the attack was not lethal. As Gael raised his blade again, the murkman pierced his leg with the pointed end of their dark sickle. Gael grunted, the curse dulling most of the pain, and brought down his blade a second time.

Once again the blow was not lethal, and the murkman tried to take another swing at Gael. The Slave Knight expected it this time, however, and dashed backwards and avoided the blow. Then with all of his might, Gael swung his blade vertically and finally managed to kill the murkman, their head severed from their body.

Gael paused to recompose himself. Most undead cannot tell how close they were to death, but Gael had died enough times in his life to know his body's limit. And he was about to reach it. Retightening his grip around his sword and shield, Gael went into the nearby chapel.

Within the chapel, stone and wood were everywhere on the floor while most of the roof above was caved in. Other than that, the chapel was in good condition. In fact, it was in too good of condition, for as Gael looked to his left, he froze.

To the far side of the building were two knights, their capes and armour a sign that they were of the fallen kingdom of Lothric. Thankfully they were looking in the opposite direction of Gael. But those two could instantly kill them. Slowly and cautiously Gael tried to walk towards the exit at the other side without alerting them.

Step. He was too far away to be heard yet.

Step. He accidentally lost his footing but somehow the knights did not hear him stumble.

Step. He was about halfway there now.

Step. Suddenly the roof caved in a little bit more, causing wood and stone to fall and hit the ground loudly. Gael held his breath as he stopped moving, praying deep down that the two giants of steel wouldn't move. That they would not check the noise behind them. But fate never was on his side.

With the loud sound of their metal plate moving, one of the two knights turned and looked straight at Gael. Their visors were closed as overgrown roots came out and spread about the armour. But Gael could tell they were on the verge of hollowing.

But there was no time to observe. Without any more hesitation, Gael made a run for the exit as the steps of the overgrown knight's metal boots grew louder and faster.

Gael felt something rushing past him and heard it ram into the stone wall behind him, but he didn't stop to look. After running into a clearing, Gael looked back and realized he lost them. But then he looked forward again to see the body of a dead pilgrim, but there was something sticking out of its back.

Its body was fleshy and grotesque and took a form similar to some sort of muscle or tongue. And there was only one thing that was recognizable, that being the upper body which looked like a bald thin humanoid praying.

It was a Londor grower, one of the creatures that summoned the angels. Or maybe it created them, Gael did not know. But what he did know was that if the creature was slain, the angel it brought about would die too. Even though Gael's sword was hardly strong enough to kill a murkman, he had to try and slay this thing for the Ashen One.

But as Gael got closer to the grower, a familiar screech echoed throughout the sky. The angel had found him.

Quickly Gael made a run for the nearby wall before one of the spears of light singed his back, causing him to wince in pain as he made it to cover. Once again taking it slow, Gael reached another cliff. And from what he could see, there was very little cover for a long distance.

Gael wrote another message with his orange soapstone before taking a deep breath and making a run for it.

More spears of light shot down on him as he fell and continued to run. With each volley, more and more spears of light shot down on him. And as he got farther, murkmen began to dig out of the ground and reach for him with their bony hands and dark sickles.

Just a bit more, he had to make it a bit more! Suddenly many of the murkmen turned into dark orbs of darkness with arms that stretched out for him. But Gael kept going and managed to avoid them as they crashed into the ground.

In the distance he could see another cliff, he was close now! He could only hope there was an ashen pile at the bottem. Then from a nearby dark puttle, more murkmen rose from it but also a tall bloated harold that loomed over him rose, holding in its hands a large curved blade.

Nonetheless, Gael did not stop and instead rolled underneath the blade as the harold swung it at him. But then Gael was out of room as he found himself at the very edge.

Looking back, he saw a massive horde running at him. And looking down, he could see it was a very long fall. Fingers crossed, Gael jotted down another message and then leaping off right as the harold swung its blade down.

As Gael fell, he looked down as his beard blew up against his face. And before he knew it, he was completely submerged in the ashen pile, making his vision go completely dark.

...

...

...

...

"Gael."

...

…

…

...

"Gael!" Came the voice of Petre followed by a loud snapping sound, causing Gael to refocus his vision before realizing he was staring at a pile of ash, the flames of the bonfire long since having died out, "You alive Gael?" Came the voice of Petre, causing Gael to look ahead as Petre sat on the other side of the now-dead bonfire.

"Yes, I am." Spoke Gael as Petre sighed in relief, "Has something happened?"

Petre got up and stretched as he groaned like an old man, before brushing off the dirt from his already dirty-looking clothes. "No, nothing has happened. At least not yet anyway."

"Then why were you shouting at me for your attention?"

With one hand Petre pointed to the leaves above, faint rays of light barely shining through the leaves, "Suns out, and I am ready to go. Also... you just kept staring at that bonfire like you were dead or something."

Gael thought briefly whether or not to tell Petre what he saw. But he doubted Petre would make much sense of it, much like with anything else of his life, so it was probably best he just didn't say anything for now unless needed, "I was deep in thought," Uttered Gael a half-truth.

It was really more of a vision of old memories. "Huh, if you say so. Though, maybe we should probably wait some more. You obviously need some res-"

"I'm fine." Interrupted Gael.

Petre raised both of his hands defensively, "Ok ok. Just don't blame me if you pass out from exhaustion or something. Especially with that gaping hole in you."

Getting up and lifting his blade, Gael picked up the two crates which he could swear felt slightly lighter. That made him suspicious. Though Petre didn't seem to be drunk, maybe it was just him, "Let us be off."

"Alright, follow me," Muttered Petre, Gael following close behind.

The woods were still as thick as they were before, the leaves blocking out almost all of the sunlight above.

And as they walked through the trees, countless crows above glared daggers full of retribution down upon Gael. Somehow someway they knew him, or the death that reeked from him.

Even as Gael tried to ignore them, they did not stop staring, they did not stop watching. And Gael realized they were slowly following him. But then as they reached the river Gael showed Petre last night, they disappeared as if they were not even real.

Petre seemed to freeze at the river's edge, his stance becoming tense before they looked about and motioned for Gael to follow them.

Nothing was said for a while as they followed the river, Gael constantly looking behind wondering if those crows were still following him or not. There was something about them that felt off to him. Something familiar and ancient.

Gael stopped himself from thinking of it anymore. There was no good to be made in trying to reason that random crows were following him other than that he might be a good snack or show them a good meal of corpses. Perhaps he just merely had the scent of a corpse and wanted a bite, he was undead after all.

Suddenly Petre asked a question, but unlike the other times, it was an actual question and not random words spewed out of a drunk, "So, I can tell you aren't from the Order or any place that I know of, thanks to that accent of yours. So, mind telling me where you are from?"

Where was he from? That... was a difficult question for Gael. It had been a long time since he thought back to his origins, where he was born. But, why would he? He could not remember the significance of his origins. Nonetheless, Gael tried to think back into the depths of his mind. But in the end, he got nothing but brief flashes, "I...Do not remember anymore."

Petre gave a look of envy at Gael as he turned to face him, "Must be nice. I'd certainly like to have such a blessing."

"It is no blessing," Interrupted Gael.

"Sure." Muttered Petre as he turned around before stopping again in his tracks. Before them was a road that stretched across to the left and right on both sides of the river, connected by a partly ruined bridge. However, the road itself seemed to twist and turn with no visible reason, along with countless cracks with every part of its surface uneven. It looked as though some sort of earthquake happened, but focused purely on the roads themselves, "What in the name of the gods happened?"

Gael himself did not know for certain, but he had a gut feeling he somehow brought this along.

Petre however didn't wait to get an answer as he spotted in the distance a small mountain, which he seemed to recognize as they began to head that way. And as they headed a bit further, the mountain became clearer to them and that was when Gael saw it.

In the distance a single poor excuse of a gate with shabby wooden walls that stretched towards the mountain from the sides. Both the gate and the walls attached to it seemed to be on the verge of collapse. Petre as well as he groaned and turned to Gael, "Ok. So I got a plan. But first, hand me the crates."

The giant looked at Petre with doubt before Petre attempted to reason with him, "Look, if we are going to make it here, you're gonna have to trust me for now. Ok? I won't drink the wine, I promise you."

Reluctantly, Gael put down the crates and allowed Petre to search through them. Quickly the man took out one single bottle of the strange wine, before carefully stashing it into the other crate containing the Mirrah mask. Then with a loud thunk, Petre closed the crate and took the one containing a majority of the wine, "Thank you."

Turning around towards the gate, Petre continued, "Now, I'm gonna head in there alone. We do not want too much attention right now-" Petre stopped as he turned around to see Gael was no longer there, "Ok... that was fast. Well, here goes nothing."

The sound of drunken cheering and laughter could be heard as Petre approached the gate. Eventually, a drunken red Oni slogged her way towards the top of the gate with a gourd of sake in hand as she began to drink from it before noticing Petre, "Well, if it ain't Petre! Did ya bring some of thast...what it called... Wine?!" Yelled the red oni with drunken cheer.

"I've come to see, Kashikoi." Replied Petre, ignoring the question.

Like other red onis, this one easily forgot their initial question thanks to their drunkenness, "PETRE ISH HERE. GET THE GATE OPEN!" Yelled the oni.

Nothing at first, but then the gate opened. Or a better word probably being pulled open as the bottom of the wooden doors dug into the ground. As the doors dragged open, a familiar sight that Petre no longer wanted to remember could be seen.

At the centre was a large bonfire with blue and red onis prancing about it with their sake along with drunken human men and incubuses. Also around the bonfire were multiple wooden shacks that could be barely called buildings as Petre could easily see inside, even as unconscious mamono laid up against them.

In one building there were multiple mamono giving birth and others injured, with blue onis trying to help them all. In another building, there were multiple human men being raped as they cried out for them to stop as both red and blue oni had their way with them.

The entire camp was a mess in every way with all the gourds and bottles of sake spread across the ground.

As Petre got halfway to the other side of the camp a red oni, who clearly had too much sake, tried to dance with him. However not wanting to waste time or even dance with this oni the first place, Petre merely pretended to dance along before quickly tricking them into thinking a nearby human man was him.

At last, he made it to the other side of the camp, which was the entrance to a brightly lit cave. The cave itself had very little difference compared to the outside, having tents and shacks with mamono, but also with bits of ancient stone walls and structures of foreign structures sticking out of the ground and other parts of the cave. Long ago the place was an excavation site, that is until this oni tribe took over.

Thankfully it was not as chaotic as outside and we soon made it to the very back of the cave. At the back of the cave was a large head of stone with a foreign helmet laying on its side, a crack going down it making it almost look like the entrance to another cave.

However, it was not the entrance to another cave, as in front of the severed statue head was a large tent with a familiar and very tall blue oni sitting next to a small bonfire. The blue oni smiled a toothy grin when they spotted Petre, "Long time no see, Friend of Shushin!"

He mentally cringed at that but made sure not to show it, "Hey, Kashikoi. I sort of need some help."

"First, sit!" Spoke Kashikoi as she patted the spot next to her. Reluctantly Petre complied while still holding tight to the crate he held. "Sake?'' Said the blue oni as she offered Petre her sake.

Petre shook his head and muttered, "Uh, no but thanks for the offer..."

Kashikoi however would not have it and brought the bottle closer, "I insist!"

Reluctantly Petre took the and drank from it, the sake's warmth obviously trying to hide both its cheapness and how disgusting the flavour was. However, when the oni wasn't looking, Petre quickly spat it out and handed the sake back to them, "So, do you know where 'The world's peak' is?"

"'World's peak'? hmm..." Kashikoi thought for a moment or two, before noticing the crate Petre was holding, "Before I tell ya, I'm gonna need a... compensation fee."

Petre chuckled slightly before turning into a groan, "I should have expected this."

"Yeah, now hand it over and we have a deal," Pretending to be reluctant in his decision, Petre hesitated before pulling out one bottle. But Petre knew Kashikoi would want more than that, "I mean all of it."

Continuing his act, Petre glared daggers at the blue oni before putting down and pushing the crate to the oni. Kashikoi's grin grew further and spread to the corners of her mouth as she ripped open the crate and took out one of the bottles of wine.

"We have a deal." Spoke Petre, interrupting Kashikoi before she got the bottle of wine to her lips.

Slightly annoyed, Kashikoi almost slammed the bottle down which probably would have broken a regular bottle, "It's probably the capital of the Kurogane, if I were to guess anyway."

Petre gave a nervous laugh, "You're joking, right?"

"Nope," Replied the oni simply, taking the bottle back to their lips which was Petre's cue to leave. He did not want to be near Kashikoi when she was drunk, especially with stuff as strong as divine wine. "Thank you," Muttered Petre before almost jolting for the exit.

The encampment was about to become as intoxicated as Bacchus' own divine realm. And he knew just how bad that could be from experience.

(-)

Gael observed the encampment silently, studying the Mamono. In all his time awakening in this world, he had never personally seen mamono live their day to day life. Granted these mamono seemed to be nothing but drunks like Petre, but nonetheless, he found it interesting.

He had so many mamono now, and Gael could only wonder how many types are there? And speaking of types, there was one creature that caught his attention.

They looked human, if only a little, but also seemed to possess traits similar to that of mamono. Was there perhaps male mamono? Could they truly produce male offspring? Or was there something else he did not know of?

After all, he did not encounter any of these kinds of mamono before. Obviously, he could tell mamono society was a matriarchy but did that also mean that the male mamono stayed home all the time?

No, no that made no sense. If they produce male offspring then everything he has seen them doing makes no sense. Then perhaps these new mamono once human? Or was he making assumptions too soon?

Of course, this was not the only thing that caught his interest. Specifically the other mamono and their structures. The red and blue mamono seemed very similar but not quite.

He could tell that the red ones were more drunken and stronger than their blue brethren, wielding massive weapons and bottles of some sort of drink. While the blue mamono seemed to be far more intelligent than their red brethren, taking care of the injured and other general needs of the group.

Their buildings as well were interesting. Gael had never gone to the eastern lands, though he had heard of and seen people from such lands. And the buildings here, though in terrible condition, were very similar in style to that of those easterners straight down to what writing he could make out.

Suddenly Gael spotted Petre leaving through the gates, this time without the crate he walked into. Gael almost thought of coming down, but instead, he waited a bit more until Petre stopped and looked about.

Perhaps he would give the man a scare. Gael couldn't help but form a faint smile at that thought.

(-)

This made no sense. When Gael first appeared, he came from nowhere. Then Poseidon came along and tried to kill him, which somehow he survived. Then when Petre asked Gael to stay hidden he just vanished. He was not human, that's for sure, especially with that giant hole in his chest. How else can a nine-foot-tall giant just disappear like that without a portal or something-

"Where do we go now?" Came a voice, causing Petre to turn around and startle himself to see the nine-foot giant suddenly there.

"Gah! Don't do that!" Yelled Petre startled before calming himself down, "How did you... Forget that I asked," Muttered Petre before he noticed Gael's face. Was that a grin of some kind, or was that just his imagination? It was hard to tell with the hood and absolutely enormous beard. Besides, he had never seen the man smile before.

"Perhaps. Now, where do we go now?" Asked Gael again.

Petre hesitated at that, "We... gotta go to The Mountain of The voice, capital of the Kurogane clan," The man waited for Gael to realize how dead they were, but no. Not a single muscle twitch of a reaction from Gael, "Anyway. If you still want to do this we either keep following the road, which I highly suggest we don't, or we continue following the river like before."

"What is this Kurogane clan?" Asked Gael.

"Just the most powerful and xenophobic clan in all of Zipangu. Totally won't turn us into shredded cheese before we get to their borders, and especially not me," Spoke Petre in a sarcastic tone.

"Then let us follow the river."

Petre drily chuckled at that, "The first half was correct Gael. The second was sarcastic, I didn't mean that literally. Probably a good idea to just forget this and not get brutally murdered."

The man almost could see slight confusion in the giant's face, as if they had never heard of sarcasm before, "Nonetheless, we will follow the river."

"I hope I don't live to regret this," Muttered Petre as both him and Gael began the next leg of their journey.

Their next Goal, to find The Mountain of The Voice, the capital of the Kurogane clan.

(-)

The faint lights of the andons dimly lit the room as the Agarwood incense burned. If one listened closely, they would hear the faint sound of the wind blowing against the chimes, and the sound of the city far below.

In the middle of the room, smoking from a buyōkiseru, sat one man dressed in a black kimono. Their black-steel weapons and armour resting upon their mounts in front of him before the ancient altar.

This man was Lord Kurogane Kōro, the only legitimate heir of Lord Kurogane Hirohito, and there was much that rested upon his mind.

The oceans had roared, the followers of the honorless samurai had been enraged and slew each other, the whore and the drunk were made powerless, The harlot of the heavens almost destroyed herself, The Hammer of fake idols and his followers had lost the strength to work, the creations of the lazy feline were made feral, and the false weeper could not influence their fate.

The promises of the Voice from long ago were being fulfilled, and yet... The Voice did not reveal itself.

Not to him, not to the priests, or any one of the royal bloodline. The voice within the tomb, which had been there since the Voice left, was still rambling in a tongue unknown.

Suddenly Lord Kurogane's thoughts were interrupted as the door behind him slid open, accompanied by the sound of a man entering the room. Kurogane said nothing, nor did he turn to look, for he waited to see what the man would do.

But all Kurogane heard was the rustling of cloth. And after waiting a small bit more, Kurogane glanced behind him to see a messenger bow lower to the ground. Taking another whiff from his buyōkiseru, he boomed a commanding voice before looking back towards the shrine in front of him, "Speak."

The man stuttered, his nervousness painfully obvious to the Lord, "L-Lord Kurogane, your highness, I-I bring news. Many of the opposing clans are uniting."

Kōro took a deep puff from his buyōkiseru, taking his time to enjoy the flavour of the tobacco, "Is that at all?"

"They are unifying to march against us, y-your Lordship!"

The Lord was not shocked by such news. Even in days of yore, since they learned from the Voice, they were always in opposition to a majority of clans. In fact, it was because of that opposition that they got into wars, and through those wars, they showed all of Zipangu the might of their divine steel. It was only proper that they feared them and wished to put a stop to them, "anything else?"

The messenger was shocked in every way to hear how unconcerned his Lord seemed to be, "T-the Barbarians have also given them a new weapon-"

"Which 'Barbarians' specifically?" Interrupted Kōro.

The messenger hesitated, his inexperience slowly starting to get on his nerves, though he didn't show it, "T-The Trade Federation, your Lordship."

A faint frown grew on Kōro's face, but could barely be noticed by the average man. The Trade Federation, a group of humans and mamono that were entirely neutral, or so they say. For though they trade with the allies of the Kurogane clan, The Order included, they refused to ever trade with them.

It was partly the fault of his grandfather, who refused to trade a single ore of their divine metal to them. Many considered that action to be foolish, but Lord Kurogane understood his grandfather's actions. The metal was divine and given to them as a gift from The Voice, and only to them. It was a divine gift, and invaluable. Nothing was worth such valuable ore. "I see... Continue."

"They have given the clans a new weapon they invented. I-I think it's called a firearm."

Kōro scoffed at that as he exhaled another puff of smoke from his buyōkiseru, "Firearm? Do you not mean a fire lance? We already have those."

"N-no sir, it is a stick that uses a thing called gunpowder. It fires an iron ball that can easily tear through flesh."

The Lord glanced back at the man, who was now sitting up with a worrisome look. However, the moment the messenger realized that Lord Kurogane was looking at them, they started to sweat, "You realize that no mortal metal can pierce our divine steel, correct?" The Lord then stopped himself and turned back as he realized his mistake, "But... Perhaps such thinking is foolish and unwise. Who sent you to me?"

The messenger's nervousness seemed to dissipate slightly, "Your half-brother, Lord Hachiman Tokkuri, sire."

Tokkuri? Perhaps he should not have been surprised with his brother being like that. His land was near the border, so it only made sense that the man would try and keep tabs on everyone's business. After all, if a war is to happen, he and his land would be one of the first targets. "Tell my brother that I am thankful for the information. And tell him if he could perhaps... procure me one of these... 'firearms'."

Kōro heard the messenger jolt up at that and left without hesitation. At least he knew the urgency of his mission.

The Lord inhaled deeply from his buyōkiseru, waiting a few moments before exhaling and nodding towards the corner of the room. Then from the shadows a servant of his appeared and patiently awaited his Lord's orders. With a deep exhale, Kurogane Kōro gave his command, "Send someone to follow him from afar, I do not want to risk him getting taken."

The servant nodded and left to do as he was commanded before Kōro stopped him, "Oh and send someone as well to tell Lord Hachiman Tokkuri that I would I prefer he sends a more... experienced messenger next time. And also alert the generals to prepare, war seems to be soon upon us."

With a nod and not a word was spoken, the servant continued his way to complete his orders.

Kōro waited awhile as he stayed silent, remaining idle as the doors behind him slid closed before he emptied and cleaned his buyōkiseru. Placing them on a nearby table, the Lord looked back at the altar behind his mounted weapons and armour, the statue of two humanoids leaning against each other as they reached for their throats.

(A/N)

I'm back from the break. I'm probably rusty rn so, my bad if the writing quality ain't the best. Granted I have no clue if I am getting better or not with writing.

Hopefully, I am getting better and hopefully, I don't get another burnout any time soon.