Kōro's soul was such a tiny thing, nothing more than a chipped crumb of humanity, and yet he stood his own against Gael with such ferocity and will. It was as if Kōro had the soul of a champion. If only Gael had that. Perhaps, if he did, things would have turned out for the better in those bygone ages.

A bitter-sweet sensation rose in Gael's chest, something which he had not felt for a long time. For once, he did not fail in the last dying request of a fellow human. But he still wondered if this was all for the best and wondered how this was related to that vision from weeks back. How did this show he truly cared for this world?

Gael would not forget this man, even if they only knew each other briefly. Though Gael realized something, in the entire time he was here since right before the explosion, Gael had not absorbed a single soul save for Kōro.

The Giant's thinking was interrupted. Petre hesitantly climbed out from cover behind the cracked stairs; his skin and clothes were covered in ash and soot along with small cuts from pebbles that had flown through the air. Taking one step at a time, Petre got closer, "Gael, how- Just- what are you?" Petre pointed at Kōro's body, "And what was that thing that came out of him?"

Gael cleaned his blade, wiping off the blood before putting the sword away as he mumbled, "I don't think you would believe me."

"Gael," Petre gave a stern look at the giant before him, seemingly ignoring Gael's imposing figure, "I have lived a long life, longer than most. I have walked every corner of this world from the palace of the demon lord to here in Zipangu. I have been to the homes of gods and conversed with them, same as well for spirits. I have even sold wine to a skeleton mamono who had no need for it. Not to mention... My nightmares could probably drive a sane man mad. So, believe me, I can take it."

The wind whispered softly in Gael's ears as he silently pondered. What would Petre think of him? Would he still see Gael as a friend if he told the truth? That he was a monster, guilty of ending the lives of millions if not billions. Why would anyone wish to befriend such a cruel thing?

But then it hit Gael. Petre revealed his own secrets to Gael in trust. He too had killed and ruined countless lives. Though it was not on the same scale as Gael, he understood where he came from. No doubt Petre wondered if Gael's view of Petre would change, just like Gael. Perhaps, Petre would understand, "I lied when I said I had no memories."

"What?"

Petre saw Gael's eyes for the first time as the slave knight looked at him. One good eye, one bad eye both filled with regret, "I am a cursed undead. As long as I have a purpose, I cannot truly die. But if I do, I will become a mortal, mindless beast that forever hungers for souls. Us undead naturally draw souls into ourselves as they become part of us, part of our strength. I am also a slave knight of an order long gone, for I am all that is left. I have lived through hundreds of wars. I have killed millions, if not more, and I am the only one left to remember them."

Petre's eyes widened, his mind beginning to process what Gael was saying, "That explains something. But, when you said you were trying to bring peace but failed, what were you talking about specifically?"

Gael stooped down to pick up crossbow bolts from the ground, trying to look away from Petre, "In ages past, the world I knew was fading and its life was unnaturally prolonged through a cycle of suffering. Though the cycle could only last so long. The world was crumbling at the seams. I sought a way out, a way to bring paradise to all who sought it. All I needed was the blood of the human soul, the blood of humanity. But in the end, I failed, and I was the one who destroyed the world in the end as I wiped out my world's human race from existence."

Petre was silent, not saying a word at all which worried Gael. Was he wrong in his assumption on how Petre would feel? Perhaps he was not worthy of anything good. But then Petre spoke, "you said you were a slave. Did you kill all those people willingly?"

"Yes, I did kill a few to achieve my goals. But" Gael looked back at Petre, "Also no. When I gained what I needed for my goals, the mass of humanity I had gathered within me blinded me and forced me to kill for it. Despite my attempts to resist its control, I am no champion, and I could not resist its hunger to be whole again."

"Whole again?" Asked Petre.

"The souls of the humans from age were all pieces of a greater soul, the Dark Soul. It once was whole, but the owner split it for others to have. But it wishes to be whole. And its hunger still haunts me."

"So, is that why we are here?"

"In a way, yes, I hope to find something that might bring an end to its control over me."

Petre walked to the edge of the mountain and stared at all the destruction around them, his expression lost in thought for a moment or two, "I really don't know for certain how to feel about this. On one hand you lied to me, and on the other it sounds too crazy to be true," Petre turned around to face Gael and took a deep breath, "But, even with the fact you lied to me, I trust what you say is true. And I get it, I honestly do. I doubt I would have wanted to share that myself. And I'm going to be honest, if you told me that you killed all those people willingly, I wouldn't have believed you."

Gael chucked at that after a brief awkward moment of silence, he doubted what Petre said was true. Petre then clapped his hands together before going over and grabbing the crates. The man opened the top crate to see the last bottle of wine left. Less than a quarter of liquid remained. He closed the crate, "So let's try and go into the mountain, yeah? First we're going to have to dig our way through all that rub-" Gael walked over to the rubble blocking the path. Then, using his great sword as a spade, Gael used his strength to push it aside, revealing a set of stone doors the size of a giant, "Or that. That works too."

The two opened the entrance and began their descent into the dark, the flickering light of hanging torches guiding their way. All the while, hiding behind rubble, a metallic eye with legs and wings watched silently as an antenna slowly rose out from the top of it. On the back of the robotic eye, a symbol depicting a hammer hitting an anvil radiating with godly energy.

The path into the mountain was twisted and long, the stairs seemingly growing longer and longer before their very eyes. The sound of wind from the outside grew faint as all that remained was the crackling sound of flames and footsteps against old stone steps. Eventually the two entered a clearing.

What laid before them was a sort of crypt, with numerous ossuaries filled to the brim with skulls and a sea of stone sarcophagi with laying statues of the buried dead's likeness atop of them, each one chiseled differently and unique. Gael felt as though he was in territory that Nito, Lord and first of the dead, would have ruled when he was still alive, which Gael found ironic.

Gael then noticed that there were no torches in this chamber, and in that moment an idea struck him, and he thought of a possibility as to why. Back in his day, tombs like these were always so dark as to not awaken the dead, for when a soul was left on its own it would either naturally fade away or become something else. At best the souls would be able to call for spectral guardians or animated skeletons for that matter.

Light agitated such souls, and so did certain sounds. Gael looked throughout the darkness to see if he could see anything that might have been built to create such noise, and lo and behold he could faintly make old bells hanging from crooked pillars of rock. Gael took a step forward but halted as Petre stopped him mid-sentence, "This must be where they bury their dead- Wait!"

Petre pointed to where Gael was about to step, revealing a cord that naturally blended into the stone. Gael could not tell what it was tied to but it was a close call nonetheless, "Thank you," Replied Gael as he cautiously stepped over the string but then stopped as Petre started to unlogged one of the nearby torches, "Do not bring that. A light as bright as that will only agitate the dead here."

"Not exactly a fan of that, but alright," Replied Petre as he let go of the torch and followed after Gael.

The two walked cautiously, careful not to potentially trigger any possible traps. Both Petre and Gael glanced around them, specifically towards the statues. Perhaps it was the darkness playing tricks on their vision, but the two could swear they could see in the corner of their eyes the resting statues turning their emotionless heads to look at them. However, every time they looked directly at the statues, the heads of the statues were in their normal position.

Along the way, Gael noticed a multitude of hammers hanging by ceilings, held up by rope. Seems he had discovered what that trap at the front was connected to. Gael then froze as he spotted something in the darkness. It was a figure of some kind, but it was so dark, Gael could only tell it was a boney and frail thing with skin almost as dark as the shadows around them. He blinked and the figure was gone.

"Gael, what are you looking at?"

"It's nothing. We just need to increase our pace."

The two moved faster, travelling across the near infinite catacombs, trying to find their way through the darkness before finally finding another set of stairs going even further into the dark below.

Descending deeper, the two were careful with every step, for the darkness had grown so dim that even with their eyes adjusted, they could only see up to their hands and walls directly next to them. The stairs kept turning lower and lower and the path became more cramped with each step; Gael himself now barely fitting. Every now and then Petre or Gael would almost miss a step and almost lose their footing but would prevent each other from tumbling down the painful fall. Eventually they saw light.

Stepping out from the flight of stairs, the two discovered a great cave system that branched out in three different directions. One went straight forward, another downward, and another going up. Mining equipment and crates laid against the walls while ore glistened from nearby torches. "So, got any idea which way to go?" asked Petre.

Gael went and stood silently in the center between the three paths as he thought long and hard, examining each path from where he stood and listening as best he could. Gael could not sense which direction was best for a while, but then he felt it. Something powerful, something familiar to him. It was difficult to pinpoint as if whatever it was, was trying to hide its presence. From what he could tell, it was deeper down. "This way," replied Gael, pointing towards the downward middle path.

Going down the path and deeper down, Gael felt a sense of unease in his gut. Gael could tell that whatever he was sensing the presence of many within one. Not only that, but Gael also felt as though something was watching from the dark corners that the torch light could not reach. What was he getting himself into?

Meanwhile Petre seemed to have a look of awe, "So, this stuff must be that divine steel the Kurogane always used. To think there is still this much. I mean, the Kurogane clan have been mining this stuff for thousands of years."

"Indeed," Gael nodded, "I have not seen so much unmined titante since the early days of my life. A god would destroy kingdoms for this much."

"Titanite? Is that what your people called it?"

"Correct."

Eventually the end of the hall was in eyesight, which seemed to have been another flight of stairs going downward. Petre turned to Gael, "Just curious. Is that sword of yours made of divine ste- I mean titanite?"

"Also correct."

The two arrived at the end of the hall. Petre's eyes widened, "Wow, that sword must cost a fortune, even in its... current condition," Petre froze, unmoving as he stared at the stairs. Just like before, the flight of stairs did not have any torches to light the way, but the darkness before them seemed somehow thicker, making the stairs appear like a wall of darkness. Petre spoke up, his voice quiet, "Do you ever remember that feeling you get as a child in the middle of the night and alone in your room? And you feel like something is there in the darkness, waiting to devour you?"

Petre slowly walked over and unlogged a nearby torch from the wall, his eyes unmoving from the darkness, "Well, that's what I'm feeling right now." Petre then took a deep breath and went ahead of Gael straight towards the darkness. Gael followed as had no choice but to let Petre lead

The steps were older, seemingly a jig saw with the cracks and wear and tear. Gael himself had to force his arms close to his body and hunch down in order to fit. The presence Gael was sensing was even more present, same as well for the sensations of being watched. As they descended down the steps, Gael swore he heard footsteps and breathing behind or in front of them other than his or Petre's. But no matter how Gael looked, he saw no one else but Petre and him.

In a shaking voice, Petre began to hum to himself. Gael did not recognize the tune, though to be honest Gael listened to very little music throughout his life. However, Gael felt something bitter-sweet about it with a sense of nostalgia. "What are you humming?"

"Just humming a tune, helps somewhat drown out the fear."

"What's the song?"

"Just a song a friend of mine made. She was such an innocent thing," Petre stopped for a moment as he said that, a hint of grief in his voice. But then Petre walked on, "I just don't feel safe right now."

Gael wanted to ask who this friend was, but he could read a room. Perhaps later at a better time he would inquire more about this friend of his, "I understand"

The two reached the bottom of the stairs with a stone doorway at the end

stepping through the doorway, the two were greeted with an awe-inspiring sight. The Cave expanded from both their left and right with giant hooded statues of rock holding tight to carved lightless torches, standing guard lifelessly within surrounding stone brick walls that stretched endlessly into the darkness. In front of them stairs continued downward, eventually clinging to the wall as it descended to a lone stone bridge. The bridge, even from afar, appeared frail and on the verge of crumbling from a breeze, bits of it missing with some parts narrow and cracks coating it. "What is this place?" Asked Petre.

Gael looked about as well. This place felt familiar, as if he had been here before or had seen something from whatever age this place was made in, "I do not know."

The two went downward and began crossing the rickety bridge of a bygone age, Petre taking lead with torch light in hand.

"Wow. This does not look like any Kurogane architecture I've ever seen. Feels more like we're still in the mainland-" a piece of the bridge, where Petre had just taken a step, fell right off and into the abyss below. Thankfully Petre managed to prevent himself from falling with the piece as he quickly stepped back. The two then waited for the piece of the bridge to make a noise when it hit the ground, but there was only silence. "Great, a bottomless pit. Let's hope we don't fall, am I right?" Chuckled Petre nervously.

Eventually, Gael and Petre crossed to the other side, leading to another stone platform. To their right were what could be seen as once pathways, indicated by how the stonework formed into an arc but now blocked off with rock that had probably caved in. To the far left, another set of stairs led slightly downward where the broken bottom half of a small statue remained and a rusty ladder lying lifelessly on the ground. Going straight forward and crossing another small bridge, was a set of stairs leading into a separate room.

The chamber was expansive, with countless large memorials and statues of hooded figures, not just on the floor but hanging upside from the ceiling. Going up more stairs further ahead, there led to a small chamber with broken stone pillars with craters and cobwebs all about the room.

On the opposite end was another hallway though it was not man made with walls of dirt and rock. It twisted and bent in natural ways that forced Gael and Petre to climb or slide down with a few instances Gael had to crawl in order to move on. Eventually the pathway formed back into something man made with stone walls and floors.

Getting up from crawling through the last narrow passage, Gael saw before him a large stone door twice his height. Rubble laid before it, blocking it from the outside. On the sides of the walls was something interesting, countless carved engravings of images and words. Gael was able to immediately recognize what was carved. Spoke Petre in awe. It was a record history of Gael's world. "This must be the Kurogane records they always spoke of," spoke Petre in awe.

Gael walked over and stared at each carving, the first line of text stating, "In the age of ancients, the world was unformed, shrouded by fog"

"It is the record history of my world. From its beginning," muttered Gael as he slowly turned and saw at the end a carving of himself standing atop a mountain of bodies, his face shrouded by fog and his sword dripping with blood in a land of ruins. Any doubt Petre might have had of what Gael stated about his past, gone, "To its end."

Petre looked at the carving of Gael but walked past him, "These look different." Petre pointed to further ahead carvings of history that Gael knew not of. The first carving was that of a locust priest standing alone in a desert with a ball of light hovering above it. There were no words written upon the image. The next few carvings did not seem to have been of a different history, each one depicting a different person with stories written around them.

One of a herald, another a bird's nest, another a maid alongside elderly woman, another a blacksmith, then a stone trader, then a pyromancer, then a wizard, a cat, a smith, a crestfallen, an armor smith, a scammer ladder smith, an insane yet steady smith, a cartographer, a merchant hag, a priestess, a mad sorcerer, a sentinel, a lonesome gyrm merchant, a prideful spellcaster, crazy bell keepers, an outcast, two suspicious killers, a grave warden, a rat, a darkdriver, a short man obsessed with blood, a charismatic merchant in a palace of iron, a severed head, a humanoid crow, a dying captain, a manscorpian, a pardoner, a spectral chancellor, young women singing, a fallen king, an ancient dragon, a silent oracle, a hearty warrior wielding false moonlight, and lastly a knight of Mirrah.

Each of these had a story of each figure, no matter how long or short they were. With most ending tragically or abruptly. The one that caught Gael's interest the most though was the last one, the one of the knight of Mirrah, its face missing. The end of the tale written of the knight stated, "Her closest friend kept their promise to her, to forever remember her name and face for the rest of time and told others of her story, even if it meant they themself would forget who they once were."

Petre noticed the carving of the knight as well but moved on as the two went to the rubble in front of the door.

They started moving the debris piece by piece, causing the hall to become uncomfortably cramped as they moved it all aside, revealing some kind of keyhole in its center. Gael tried to move the stone door open, dust flying into the air as it moved. However, the door refused to open save for a slight budge.

"Get back," Stated Gael. Petre silently did so as Gael then drew his great sword and slung it at the door like a hammer. At first the door showed no sign of damage, but Gael continued. Repeatedly Gael swung at the gate. After a minute of this it finally showed signs of breaking, cracks forming where Gael hit.

Then with one final and heavy blow the door turned into crumbled pieces that flew outward as wind rushed in and dust flew everywhere, leaving the pathway open as Petre coughed from the dust. Gael felt some relief for he had suspected traps, but the pathway now open to them was nothing but a void. Using his free hand, Gael motioned for Petre to stay behind him as they slowly walked through.

Their steps echoed through the darkness, the world around them dark before they saw something with light in the distance. Getting closer they saw before them, underneath a faint ray of sunlight, a large figure laying on the ground facing away from them. Their skin was a dark shade of green, with bits of bone and dark red flesh throughout. Their hair was gray and sparse but also long. They wore nothing but rags and were holding tight to an elegant sword like a lover in their arms. Gael could faintly make out beyond the figure a small wall and above that a multitude of seated statues of bearded sages, the eyes in their chiseled faces nothing but darkness.

Petre took a single step forward, unintentionally hitting his foot against something as a faint metal ringing echoed. The man looked down and saw what he bumped into and picked it up. Gael noticed this as he turned to look, making sure to keep the figure in the corner of his eye as he did. The thing Petre found was an ornate crown of green metal that could fit a normal sized man, a single purple gem ordaining it. It looked beautiful yet frail.

Gael turned and looked around as he got a gut feeling in his chest, spotting three other crowns of different design spread throughout the room. One silver and Ivory that rose like a tower in the front center with a yellow gem in the middle. One of soot and iron with sharp harsh points rising like the jaws of a demon. And lastly, one of black steel with three points that curved inward.

Things were coming together in Gael's mind. Four crowns, the tales on the walls, the figure that looked like an undead... Could it be? Was this the Bearer of the Curse? And were these crowns the crowns of legend said to have the power to break the curse, filled with soothing warmth that even an undead could feel? Gael reached over and touched the crown Petre was holding and felt... Nothing, in fact, it felt cold to his touch.

Suddenly the figure began to move. As they rose, the sound of each individual joint popping was audible. The figure mumbled in a dry and hoarse voice of unintelligible groanings. Their bones cracked and snapped as it rose its back and dangled its sword at its side. With the corpse fully risen, Gael could see also beyond it a set of Faraam armor tossed aside on the wall with a single sentence etched behind it, "There is no path."

The figure stood motionless as Gael, somehow, felt his heart begin to thumb like a slow drum of war in his head, what was this feeling? His vision became partially blurry as red veins covered the corners of his vision. Then as his heart stopped racing and the red shrunk in his vision, the figure turned towards the two, their face hidden by shadows and hair save for its milky white eyes. Even still Gael could see fear yet strength in the eyes. After another moment of silence, the figure shakily pointed its weapon towards Gael. Gael could sense an aura grow from the figure. An aura far more powerful than Gael. An aura like that of the Ashen one, an aura of pure will power, even in a state of madness. And deep-down, Gael felt fear.

There was no doubt in Gael's mind. This was the Bearer of the Curse. Or what was left of them.

(A/N)

I can never decide if ds2 or ds3 is my favorite game in the Dark Souls series.