Dark Souls: Derp Edition

by Supreme Gamer

Somehow stuck in dark souls, Kaylen, Oscar and loads more characters go on an incredible journey to change the destiny of the chosen undead. Lost Izalith will become found Izalith, mushroom men will attack and Priscilla's tail will be fondled. Warning: Be prepared to joy puke your face off.

34. Chapter 29-The Old Dark

DONE AND DONE!

I finally managed to get this goddamn chapter finished!

You have not know true despair until you write about half of a stories chapter and your laptop crashed without saving it and you have to start over. Its just freaking soul crushing I tells ya.

Also, OH. MY. GOD, GUYS!

THIS STORY IS NOW FOUR FAVORITES AWAY FROM BEING THE NUMBER ONE OC DARK SOULS FAN-FIC! I DON'T BELIVE IT!

Seriously, thank you to all the guys that stuck around so far. Things have come a really long way from the seven likes I got when I first started thing. I'm super glad to have made it this high up on the list and hope I can keep entertaining you guys with this lil story of mine. :)

Anyway, lets move along with a few...

Comments that caught my eye.

Ta'oma Lazuli- Amazing as always but I have to ask. Where did you get the inspiration for adding the goddess Velka in the story? she isn't as easy to spot like other gods and goddesses.

My Response- I get this question a lot from most readers. I was inspired to add Velka when I started to feel like my story should have some sort of extra element or variable that sets it apart and is something that most people haven't done in other Fan-Fics. In comes a goddess who's widely know and respected in the Souls universe. And is also not explored very much, so that gives me a LOT of room to be creative with her character and her actions, instead of following along with pre-scripted expectations.

I like to imagine and compare her to a character named Albedo from a show called Overlord when thinking of her actions in the story. But this is purely to get my imagination going.

Weissmann- Wait a second... when Velka told him how to create a soul arrow, was that a Tower of God reference? It's very similar in that the main character has innate abilities and that the scene was the extremely similar to when Laurou told Baam how to make a bang.

My Response- Wow. You have an incredible eye, bro. Yeah, that part is a reference to tower of god. I kinda liked that starting moment of baam finding out he has a good bit of talent. Kinda felt that that would be a pretty awesome way to show the prophet abilities to everybody. Nice catch, dude.

LEXPRITCH- And here we go. Bucking OP- ness... Not in his social activities with Velka or The Trap, but just superpowers... Damn Shame...

Whatever. I suppose you'll skip Izalith Arc right now? I mean they go to Londo immediatly? Ok, no spidey-chicks, but The Tale, good.

Thanks for your hard handiwork! Tale must fondled!

My Response- Hold it right there. There is no way that im not going to include everybodys favorite spider woman in this story. After all, can't have Oscar and the others sitting on their ass while the prophet is away, can I?

Guest- What just happened at the end of the chapter? I'll tell you. And it's an incredibly daunting moment indeed. This being, this creature, beyond mere mortal, but completely foreign to that of a god, has been awoken. He is here. The Giant Dad is upon us.

My Response- Never before have I been so hyped in someone describing the Prophet, only for it to be about a completely different character. ;-;

Alright, bro's. Thats about all I got this time. Hope you all enjoy the update.

Warning: This chapter contains insane levels of violence. You have been warned.

---

With the full moons gleaming light bearing down upon them and the Prophets words of an attack ringing through their mind, there was a moment of complete and utter shock among the group.

Being the first to wake from this stupor, Velka's gaze hardened as she turned towards the Prophet at her side.

"Tell me all that you know of this! Now!" Velka said hiss, her anger unable to be directed to a valid target.

"I don't know anything about this." the Prophet said quickly. "Its never been inside destiny's plan. It shouldn't even be happening."

"You said that fate is changed and altered on a whim by your mere presence." Velka countered angrily. "That must mean if that it shouldn't be happening, then it must have something to do with you."

"That's impossible. I haven't done anything to alter the future in a manner like this. Not to mention that even if I did, there are only seven undead capable of even making it to Anor Londo. Three of them are standing right behind me, one is imprisoned in Sen's fortress right now, another's long since dead courtesy of a fall near the painted world, one other is stuck inside a crystal golem with no way to break herself free and the last is-" his words caught in his throat as his mind slithered down the path the last Undead was always meant to take and a few thoughts actually managed to line up with what was happening. Letting his mind connect the dots, his next words were spoken in low and somewhat disbelieving tone. "He's completely off the board."

"Do not speak in riddles, Prophet." Velka said, snapping the Prophet out of his thoughts. "If you have some idea of what is the cause of this, then speak it."

"No, no, no, It can't be. There's just...no way. But unless some third party that I'm unaware of has suddenly decided to take action, he's the only person left who's capable of causing a disturbance like this. Not to mention that his world was always covered in darkness when invaded." the Prophet said, putting a thump to his chin in thought before turning back to Velka. "I can't be certain about this and there's every chance that I could be wrong, but the only person that comes to mind that could do something like this would be Lautrec."

Hearing this and knowing that she was somewhat responsible for Lautrec's continued freedom, Velka's eye's darkened as she spoke her next words.

"That's not possible. One man would not be able to take on the full might of Anor Londo." Velka said angrily, well aware that the Prophets predictions have yet to be wrong or misleading.

"Lautrec isn't just some nobody. Though I don't enjoy admitting it, he's far more powerful and skilled than most undead. More than that, he's driven. He acts out of some insane servitude for a goddess named Fina. He'll go far for her. As far as I know, this could all be happening per her instruction." the Prophet explained as a question suddenly occurred to him. "Vel, do you have any information of someone under that name?"

"It is my job to watch over and observe the actions of any possible threat that could threaten Anor Londo, from the humans that attempt to invade, to any warrior or sorcerer that walk its grounds. I can tell you with absolute certainty that there is no goddess that resides in Anor Londo under the name Fina." Velka stated without a hint of doubt.

"Well, that mystery's still in the air then. Regardless, Lautrec was destined to head to Anor Londo once both bells had been rung. My visions don't show me what he did to cause it before, but his world was always cast in darkness once the Chosen Undead hunted him down there. Not to mention that he kills countless undead who come hunting him, before being put down." the Prophet explained clearly. "It's because of the magic of the ring he wears called the ring of Favor and Protection. It makes him faster, stronger and more durable. Not someone to be underestimated."

"Could he threaten Lord Gwyndolin with this ring?" Velka asked with concern.

"No. Even with the Ring of Favor, Lautrec couldn't lay a hand on Gwyndolin. Though..." the Prophet started with a bit of thought. "...If I'm being completely honest, I'm not so sure that many others could take him on one on one. I'd even go so far as to say that, if the situation was right, he could even pose a threat to Ornstein and Smough ."

With that, Velka felt that she had heard more than enough.

"Well, this is all just speculation. We will know nothing for certain standing here." Velka said with finality. "You are coming with me to Anor Londo and we will discover the truth of things."

The thought of debating this not even crossing his mind, the Prophet turned towards Oscar, Siegmeyer and Solaire and began to speak calmly, wanting to give but a few parting instructions to them.

"You guys heard the lady. While we figure out what's going on I need you three to move forward with a few things. First, read this." the Prophet said as he pulled what appeared to a scroll that emitted an aura of red. Before any of them could question what it was, he unrolled this parchment and presented what could only be described as a mass of whispers and the feeling as if something was being etched into their very being caused each of their visions to grow blurry and the heads to ache momentarily.

Knowing just how urgent things were, the Prophet just barely gave his friends time to shake the pain from their now burning minds, before he continued speaking.

"This is the Rite of Kindling and I've just given you all the ability to strengthen bonfires using humanity. Travel to Blighttown, find Quelaag. She's one of the last chaos witches and kills any and all intruders to take their humanity. Understand that under no circumstance is she to be killed. She kills to use the humanity to keep her sister, Quelaan, alive and prioritizes her well being above all. Thats you way to get her to become an ally. Tell her that she needs to feed the humanity to her bonfire instead of feeding it to her body directly. Let her know that you guys are the only one's capable of doing this and everything should fall into place."

"Wait a minute, Rite of Kindling? Quelaag?" Velka said, overwhelmed and confused by this rush of surprising information.

"I'll explain later, Velka." the Prophet said quickly as he turned back to his friends. "There's a gate blocking a shortcut to Blighttown underneath Firelink Shrine. Use the elevator to get behind the bonfire to get to it. Regarding, Griggs is in the building just before the demon you fought. Save him and Laurentius in the Sewers, then use the shortcut to save time and risk. Oh, and if you see someone named Quelana, she may be able to help things proceed a little smoother."

"And what of unlocking the potential within us?" Oscar questioned, wanting to know more of how to grasp hold of the strength he'd felt before.

"Hm...There's not much time to go in-depth, but I'll tell you what I can." the Prophet said before looking at each warrior respectively. "Siegmeyer, you wanna take down a dragon, then the armor to do it is at the bottom of the tower not far from here. But not going to be something you just pick up. If you go for it, be ready for a fight. Solaire, your powers practically inhuman, trust your faith and instincts and it will no doubt guide you further beyond yourself. And Oscar..."

The Prophets next words were spoken with a bit of hesitation, the cause of which only Oscar himself knew of.

"Your a fundamentally different existence all toghether. Like mine, your power will grow exponentially without you even realizing it. But if I had to point you in direction..."

Again there was hesitation, but this time the Prophet gave a brief glance to the goddess behind him that went completely unnoticed by everyone except for Oscar.

"Deep in Blighttown, there is a massive tree know as the great hollow. Follow its roots upward until you find an area with a corpse, beside this corpse is an illusionary wall that contains a chest. Go behind the chest and destroy the illusionary wall it hides. Make you way through the tree and across the land beyond and you'll find a being that may be able to give you what your after."

Velka, who was practically about to burst with questions about everything he just said, qickly changed her tune as she shifted her gaze once again towards the full moon that hung over head. Turning back towards the Prophet, she spoke but a few words before snapping her fingers loudly.

"Enough of this." was all that escaped her lips.

SCREEEEECH

Before the Prophet could hardly recognize what was happening, two Batwing Demons dropped to his side, grabbed him by his arms and, in one simultaneous, smooth motion, spread their leathery wings and jumped into the air. Needing only two beats before they went airborne towards the Highwall of Anor Londo.

Before leaving, Velka gave one last parting glance at the knights around her before giving her wings a few wide beats and flying in the same direction as the Prophet before her.

Watching them both take to the air and soar out of sight, each of the Knight then turned to one another.

"So...the fate of the world and or humanity rest with us." Solaire said aloud, as if he had yet to fully accept such a role. "A few humans against darkness itself."

"The Prophet seems to think that the gods can be trusted to help us in this." Siegmeyer added unsurely. "I'm not one to doubt his judgement, but I'm not so sure that we can trust them. What do you two think? Should we follow his lead in this?"

At this, Oscar's face hardened and his hand closed into a fist.

"I believe the Prophets may be too trusting of their kind on this. If push comes to shove, they'll no doubt take care of their own first and leave us to rot." Oscar said with certainty. "If they seek to correct their mistake, then I see no reason to stop them. But I believe we should no longer allow ourselves to rely upon them and be capable to strike out on our own should they choose to stand idle as the world falls to ruin. Even more so, if they choose to stand against us. Humanity must carve its own path."

Both of Oscar's companions paused at this as they thought things over for a moment.

"I can not help but agree, Oscar." Solaire said solemnly. "Though I do pray that the Prophet is successful in gaining their aid, if they refuse to help and the task falls to us, then we must be ready to stand and fight. Even if it means fighting the gods themselves."

"Agreed. We will pray for the best, but prepare for the worst. But what of the Prophet?" Siegmeyer questioned. "He was more than a little attached to Velka. He will not turn on someone he seeks to protect so easily."

"I have faith that if the time comes, the Prophet will make the right choice and side with us." Oscar said resolutely. "But for now, we have our instructions on what to do next. Let us not waste any more time standing here."

---

Anor Londo

Being carried as is he was nothing more than luggage, the Prophet would be lying if he said his heart did not race as he soared higher and higher into the air. Luckily for him, it took only a few minutes for the demons to ascend the impossibly high rocky cliff that served as the foot of Anor Londo.

As Velka came flying at his side, they both finally broke past the wall and were granted a full view of what should have been the Shining city of the gods. But what greeted them instead was a sight that was both mournful and disheartening, for they both knew of the lost beauty their eye's should have met. Now the city stood in a deep twilight that cast shadows that almost seemed eager to swallow it whole.

Taking only a moment to lament on the city's dark visage, both Velka and the Prophet continued to fly until both their eye's fell upon what should have been an impossible sight.

They were people. Covered from head to tow in what appeared to be a blood red aura that seemed to make up their entire being.

"Holy shit...Red Phantoms? Invading Anor Londo?" the Prophet said in disbelief at the sheer number of invaders that could be found at every direction he turned. "Why are there so many? Their like a goddamn army."

Seeing this massive force of intruders inside her beloved home, the fury within Velka's heart increased with each passing second. They were everywhere on the city's grounds. Soaring through the skies, glimpses of their aura could be seen moving through the buildings they flew past, fighting what the Prophet could only believe were Darkmoon Blades in heated combat. The goddess had forcefully calm herself mentally before deciding what exactly her next step should be.

Luckily for her, the answer had just come into both of their sights as they flew past a large tower.

Standing just at the entrance of what the Prophet knew was the first bonfire the chosen undead was supposed to encounter when they arrived in Anor Londo was a woman clad in golden brass armor and wielding what appeared to be an Estoc in her right hand that radiated with a bright blue light and a small parrying dagger in her left. Closing in around her were the forms thirteen of the Invading Phantoms, of which she did her best to keep at bay with her outstretched weapons, who had the crumbled forms of multiple Painting Guardians laying at their feet.

Clearly the Prophet and the Goddess were arriving just as a major battle was ending.

'The Darkmoon Knightess." the Prophet said deafly as he watched the woman stand against such unfair odds. "She won't survive fighting them all alone."

"Then its a good thing she's not alone." Velka growled as she dived head first towards the two opposing forces.

After spreading her wings wide to quickly halt her fast decent, Velka mentally willed five orbs that glowed with a bright blue aura to appear just above her head. Then, with her body still rapidly approached the asphalt that was the small space between the two opposing groups, she sent each one of the orbs speeding to the closest phantoms near her as if they were arrows being shot from an invisible bow.

With each of the masses of light expertly striking a Phantom directly in its chest and piercing their heart, Velka landed effortlessly in front of the Knightess and glared at the remaining foes.

"Lady Velka?" was all the Blade could say as her eye's fell upon the Goddess winged back.

Seeing this, the Prophet was quick to develop a plan of action. He wasn't going to let Velka face things alone.

"Gotta get in the fight." Kaylen said as he turned his gaze towards the Batwing demon that held his right hand.

FWOOOOOSH

Without wasting a single moment, the Prophet ignited his hand in a crimson flame causing the demon to give a high pitched screech of pain before it hastily released him and allowed its identical looking kin to carry the humans full weight alone. Moving quickly, the Prophet used his now free hand to reach inside his satchel and pulled free the Legacy mask, immediately setting it upon his face and feeling its power flow through him at the same time the remaining Batwing demon began to falter from the sudden shift in weight.

FWOOOOOSH

Setting his remaining arm in a blaze just as he'd done before, the Prophet was sent into free fall as the second demon screamed in pain and released its hold upon him.

Focusing solely on the inhuman woman standing before them, the Phantoms hardly had time to react as the Prophet came crashing upon them. Giving an ear splitting battle cry as he crashed right into the middle of the group like a burning, black meteor.

BWOOOOSH

Igniting himself in his Tainted Pyromancy mid flight, the very second the Prophets hand slammed into the ground a massive pillar of black flame erupted from the asphalt. The lucky one's, the one's who were just out of range of the pillar, were only sent flying off there feet from the impact. The unlucky one's, the one's that were even a step to close to the Prophets landing, were ingulfed by the roaring flames entirely. With the fire flaring up from the ground and flaying skin from bone like a massive flamethrower, many of the Red Phantoms could only scream in horrific agony as they were given a searing, painful death.

Once the flames had died down, five more of the Red Phantoms lay collapsed upon the ground, their bodied slowly fading away into souls as they disappeared. After a few moments more five dark sprites flew from their corpses and into the Prophets body. Apparently gifting him with humanity for his victory.

Raising himself from his kneeling position on the ground, the Prophets body now suffered from major burns on almost every portion of his flesh. But he just barely took notice to it. Quickly, deducing that this must have been because of the Power of the Legacy mask alongside the Blue Tearstone ring, which now glowed with a bright blue energy, he wasted no time in turning his attention to the remaining three living invaders.

Luckily for him, he didn't have to force his burned body into action as Velka summoned five more of the blue sphere's just as she had done before. Sending one to pierce the head of one of the phantoms that had just made it to his knee's, two to rip through the chest of another that still lay on his back trying to regain his breath from a coughing fit, and the remaining two to pierce the throat of the last one that actually managed to make it to his feet.

"Homing Soulmass." the Prophet thought to himself as he took a swig of his Estus and walked towards the two women. "Sorcery without a catalyst? She once again manages to surprise me with what should be an impossibility. But then again, someone was able to make a talisman out of nothing but a few pieces of her hair In-Game. Something like this isn't entirely outside the realm of possibility. For all I know, she could have sorcery I've never seen before. But that's something for me to question at a later date. There are more important things to take care of right now."

Making a mental note of the outrageous show of magical skill he just saw, the Prophet remained silent as Velka turned away from the dispersing bodies of the Red Phantoms and towards the Knightess.

"Report, solider." Velka commanded. "What has happened? How has the city fallen under such siege?"

"I know not, my lady." the Knightess replied respectfully. "One moment everything was as it usually was, then suddenly these invaders were everywhere and their numbers seem to know no end."

"Something like this wouldn't just happen without some sort of warning or change." the Prophet said aloud. "Did anything out of the ordinary happen recently? Anything at all."

"...no...nothing at all." the Knight said with clear hesitation that both Velka and the Prophet caught.

"Your lying, Knightess." the Prophet accused heatedly. "We don't have time for this. The city is literally being torn apart from the inside."

"And who are you to question me?" the Blade said angrily.

"Who he is of no importance right now. What matters that you are hiding something." Velka said, her impatience showing clearly. "Now you will either tell us what you know or I will not hesitate in shattering your mind in finding it out myself."

Hearing this and bearing the weight of Velka's gaze, the Darkmoon Knightess could not help but take a step back out of fear, before shifting her gaze downward for but a moment, then returning it to her eye's and speaking.

"There was only one thing...a man. He came bearing the soul of another Firekeeper." the Firekeeper explained. "For his actions, I had him imprisoned."

Hearing this, something akin to a cog began to turn in the Prophets mind as he slowly but surely began to put together what could possibly have been the terrible truth of what was the cause of all this.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Please tell me you didn't. Please tell me I'm wrong." the Prophet said in wide eyed realization. "The man. Was he wearing golden armor with hands made to look like they were holding his body?"

"Yes, he did." the Knightess said in confusion and surprise. "How did you-"

"Jesus Christ, no, no, no. Okay, I need you to answer my next question clearly and with complete certainty." the Prophet interrupted in a more panicked tone. "Where exactly did you have him imprisoned? Please, tell me it wasn't were I think you did."

"Why does that matter?" the Knightess asked.

"Just answer the question." Velka commanded seeing that the Prophet may be coming upon the answers she sought.

Pausing only for a moment, the Knightess answered the Prophets question honestly and truthfully, much to his dismay.

"I had him taken to the Painted World."

Hearing this, the Prophet eye's darkened with anger.

"Grrr, you...complete idiots!" the Prophet growled as he walked forward until he was towering of the Knightesses body, his mask face giving off a terrifying visage. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Velka, not phased by his anger, quickly stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcibly turning his gaze away from the knightess and towards her.

"Prophet, we don't have time for this. We knew that it was likely Lautrec from the start. This has only confirmed our suspicions, but if you have realized something I have not, then speak it." the Goddess said.

"Its even worse than that. Not only is Lautrec the cause of this, but if what I think what's going on is happening, then he's now ready to get himself killed and take as many people down as he can with him before he goes." the Prophet explained in an angered tone. "In the painted world, there's an item called a Dried Finger. Its supposed to be used by those who want to be invaded by Red Phantoms as much as possible and as fast as possible. I never dreamed it could be used on a massive scale like this, but I do know that these Phantoms will keep appearing as long as Lautrec stays alive."

"So this will only end once he's been killed. Very well." Velka said, now fully understanding the situation. "Where exactly is he right now?"

"If he make the same choice as fate foretold, then there's no doubt he'd head straight for the Lordvessel. Though he has no interest in actually taking it." the Prophet explained.

"Then we have our objective." Velka said turning around on a heel, ready to move and put things into action. "Prophet, you seek out Lautrec and find him wherever he may hide. If you can, end his miserable existence. I will go to ensure Lord Gwyndolin's safety and inform him of the situation. With the number of invaders being seemingly endless, it would be best if he focused his illusions on killing Lautrec quickly instead of trying to fight pointless battles with them. Knightess, you go and rally the other soldiers as best as you can. The city will be overwhelmed if everyone fights separately like this, but if we can bring our numbers together, the chances of survival will be that much greater. Now move!"

With her words spoken, Velka spread her wings and took off in the air to where she hoped her lord still was.

Following her commands, the Prophet took only a few moments to run down the small stairway behind him and quickly use the Darkmoon Knightesses bonfire to regain his used Estus. With his golden liquid replenished, he ran back up the stairs and, seeing that the Darkmoon Knightess had already left to carry out her orders, rushed towards the massive elevator that would lead him downwards to the bridge that would lead towards the Lordvessel.

Though he did not speak it aloud given the urgency of the situation, the Prophet was in a deeply troubled state of mind. He knew that if Lautrec had gone into the Painted world, then the only way he would have been able to leave would be to get past Crossbreed Priscilla. And the thought of that possibility left him with a concerned with whether or not she was killed or hurt in any way by that lunatic.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he was not entirely sure that if he'd discovered that the innocent crossbreed had been killed, that he would not hold the Knightess accountable for it. But that was something to deal with afterword's. Right now, he didn't have the time to deal with that issue. He had to focus on finding Lautrec.

Going down on the elevator and descending down its stairway, the prophet walked through the doorway to what he knew should have held a lone Bell Gargoyle blocking the way. Instead what greeted him was a six Red Phantoms slowly rising out of the ground and seemingly fading into this world, each one appearing to look basic in nature. Wearing cracked armor that only seemed to cover their upper body and well used shortswords that looked like the were well past needing repairs.

Charging into the fray without a second thought, the Prophet moved straight towards the closest Phantom whose blade seemed to slowly start to get his bearing.

"Bad spawn point, pal!" the Prophet shouted causing the Invader to look directly toward him as he delivered a powerful punch straight to his nose. Given his greatly enhanced strength, courtesy of the Legacy Mask, the Prophets attack was more than enough to cause a resounding crunch to echo off the walls around them and send the trespasser flying on his back with a groan.

Not even pausing in his advance, the Prophet moved towards the next Red Phantom that had only just managed to gather his surroundings.

Rushing forward, he casually tossed a fireball in an underhanded fashion into the face of the crimson being, causing him to scream and recoil in pain as he used both his hand to grasp his face. Unfortunately, this immense opening caused him received a heavy punch directly to his abdomen, knocking the wind clean from his body and making him cough up a considerable amount of blood, before receiving a heavy right hook that caused yet another very audible crack to ring through the air and sent the invader falling to the ground. Not wasting a second, the Prophet finished him off with a swift Firebomb to his exposed head.

The bombs explosion had the negative effect of gaining the attention of many of the remaining Phantoms and drawing their focus from figuring out their surroundings, to readying themselves for battle. Though the thought that they were trying to avenge their allies or even cared that they had been killed could not be further from the truth, each of them knew a threat when they saw it. Giving only a small glance to one another, two of the invaders quickly decided to charge towards the Prophet, intent on overwhelming him.

Seeing this, the Prophet actually smiled cockily behind his mask as he drew his two daggers from his satchel. He could only shake his head as they dimwittedly charged forward with their swords raised high over their heads. In fact, a small part of him was almost insulted at their pure lack of defense.

"Well, I did want to practice this." the Prophet mocked as he foes grew closer. "Guess you guys will have to do."

Just as the first attackers blade was raised and sent flying towards his body, the Prophets form seemed to suddenly vanish in a sort of hazy fashion. With the rush of wind passing by his face as the only indicator that the Prophet had moved, the invader was shocked to hear a scream of pain come from behind his person. To the remaining invaders who did not charge head-first in with them, the prophet had disappeared right before their very eye's and reappeared behind the first attacker, only to plunge one of his daggers into the chest of the second that followed close behind.

Realization dawning on him that the man had somehow gotten past his attack, the first invader hastily turned around and swing his blade wildly. Following his instincts, the prophet yanked his weapon free and ducked the hasty strike while simultaneously turning on his heel towards him. Then in one smooth fashion, his rose from his ducking position and brought his blade up straight through the invaders neck. His piercing yellow gaze staring on as the man slowly choked on his own blood.

Feeling the blood on his hands and seeing the life leave the Phantoms eye's, the Prophet was surprised by just how...empty he felt about it all. He would love nothing more than to say that what he'd done was hard and that he'd never allow himself do it again. But he knew that would be a lie. It wasn't hard at all for him. He was faster, stronger and more of a warrior then all of them put together. Fighting them was more of akin chore, than an actual battle. And he knew that no matter how despicable the act was, he stood ready and willing to do it once more if it meant moving forward and protecting those he loved.

This fact seemed to have darkened his mood to a point that more mockery was the furthest thing from his mind.

Yanking his blade free and allowing the body to fall to the ground dead, the Prophet spun both blades backwards in his hands as he turned towards the two final invaders, who stood with the look of absolute fear in their eye's.

"Hey. You came here to kill, didn't you? Well, you won't get any souls just standing there." the Prophet said in a somewhat menacing tone, holding both his daggers lazily, not even bothering to get into a stance to fight his remaining enemy's. "Come and get me."

"L..Lyla?" the Phantom said fearfully as he took a step backwards.

This seemed to confuse the Prophet greatly. Right now, the man standing before him didn't look like a murdering psychopath or even a warrior of any kind. In fact, now that actually took a moment to look at him, the guy barely looked like a man at all. He appeared very young, out of place even. As if someone had given their teenage son a weapon and sent him off to play war.

But just as quickly as the thought came to him, it left not but a moment more. The Prophet was well aware of his task and what kind of person stood before him. No matter how you sliced it, this person was here to murderer others for his own benefit. So focusing solely on the task at hand, the Prophet charged forward with both blades ready.

It was child's play for him to deflect the adolescents panicked swing to the side, rendering him wide open for a finishing blow. But at the very moment his grip on his blade tightened to end the child's life, the Prophet unwillingly hesitated. As he already knew, he wasn't a cold blooded killer. So instead of plunging his blade through his body just as he had done the others, the Prophet instead shifted just slightly enough to pierce straight through the phantoms shoulder.

It brought him no feeling of righteousness nor pleasure as he watched the boys eye's widen with realization of what just happened and then hear an ear splitting scream escape his mouth as he fell to the ground in pain.

Before he could ponder what he would do next, the remaining Red Phantom that still stood stock in fear behind the boy suddenly snapped back to reality. The Prophets attention was already on her the moment he felt there was a chance she would make a move. It took him moments to realize, in contrast to the others, she was actually a woman with long red hair..

"NO!" the Phantom shouted before she suddenly dropped her straight sword to the ground and ignited both her hands in a crimson flame. Then, without thinking of her next actions, she ran towards the Prophet, who seemingly did not move from his calm positioning. "KEEP AWAY FROM HIM, YOU MONSTER!"

Looking at her face to face, the Phantom appeared to be bit older looking than the boy, but not by much. She was attractive too, though nowhere near Velka or Anastacia's level, but still something many men would be happy to get ahold of. From her reaction to the boys injury, she must have known him personally. Though from the looks of things, if normal pyromancy is all she has to offer, she wouldn't be much more of a threat to him than the others were.

The Prophet needed only seconds to read her, with each of her movements being painfully telegraphed to him.

"Monster? Coming from a Red Phantom? Oh, the irony." the Prophet said calmly as he placed one of the daggers in his satchel and charged forward, easily sidestepping the few fireballs the female phantom threw his way as she continued forward. It was clear that she charged at him out of anger rather than actually having a plan of attack, for when the Prophet chose to meet her head on rather than retreat from her onslaught, she went wide eyed with surprise. Until finally, he was directly upon her.

BOOOSH

The moment she was in range, the Prophet placed his free hand on her chest and sent her flying on her back using his Hand Cannon. Heaving and choking, she was finding it almost impossible to regain her breath for the first few moments after the blow.

With her incapacitated at the moment, the Prophet approached her and spoke calmly.

"You shouldn't have come here." the Prophet said remorsefully. "Hunting others for their humanity isn't a path that anyone should take."

At this, after regaining her breath and rolling to her hands and knee's, the female phantom spoke through gritted teeth.

"You bastards. You hoard everything here in your goddamn castle, leave us to fend for ourselves...and then have the audacity to judge us for trying to survive?" the Female Phantom said, seething with anger as she caught her breath. Thought she did not stand from her position on both her hands and knee's, she did look the Prophet directly in his now yellow split eye's as she spoke her next words with tears forming in her eye's. "HOW CAN YOU STAND YOURSELVES?! DO YOU NOT FEEL REMORSE?!"

This...should have been the part where he felt regret for what he had done. He should feel the heavy weight of his actions bearing down upon his shoulders. The sight of this teary eyed woman and dead bodies all around him should have made him sick to the core. He should have felt some sort of guilt.

But...he just didn't.

The only thing he felt was that he had done what needed to be done. He took no joy in it, but held no sorrow in his heart. And he didn't have to look deep within himself or even give half a thought to know why that was.

The Prophet, though his intention were good, wasn't some shameless paragon of good, nor was he some idealistic hero from a fairytale. He was only human. No...he was nothing more than a man playing his role in the grand scheme of things. Someone who was only here to clean up a mess. She came to kill. To take from others. Should he feel pity that the would-be murderers ran into someone far above their level? He was not so naïve. He would not regret what he had to do.

Staring upon his skull like mask and gaining no reaction from him whatsoever, the woman grit her teeth in further anger and frustration. It was then that the Prophet walked up to her kneeling form.

Knowing her death was imminent, the woman felt a swirl of emotions run through her. She wanted to curse the mans name, to swear revenge upon him. But it would be for naught. From their brief encounter alone, she knew she held no chance against him, no matter how many times she tried.

But still even after he had approached her, he only stood in silence.

"What's wrong? Unable to dirty your hands with more blood?!" the woman said, her eye's tearing up. It took a strong person to look their death in the face and not flinch. She was not that strong. "Why not finish what you started?"

Hearing this, the prophet paused momentarily to think his next actions over, before scratching the back of his head with a heavy sigh and moved closer towards her.

"NO!" the young boy cried, though he did not rise from his position on the bloodied ground. "Leave her alone!"

Moving forward until his shadow was towering over her body, the Prophet raised his hand and willed two humanity sprites that seemed to swirl and move all on its own into his palm.

"Don't talk as if you have some moral high ground to stand on, Phantom. Lucky for you, I got bigger fish to fry at the moment." the Prophet said in a tone that was somewhat threatening, yet also very annoyed, as If he was an adult telling something to a child who had yet to learn of their own frailty. He then proceeded to drop both sprites on the ground in front of the woman. "You came here out of a necessity to survive, huh? Then both of take one of these and get the hell out of here. Go back to your original forms and stay out of Anor Londo if you know what's good for you"

Staring at the humanity, then looking back up to the masked man, the Phantom was honestly at a loss for words.

"You-. Why would you-"

"Just shut up and take it, before I realize what an idiot I am for giving a goddamn Red Phantom my humanity." Was all the Prophet said before he walked past both her and the boy, who also held the look of surprise and confusion upon his face.

He meant what he said. He was fully aware of the madness of his actions. Would they have hesitated in killing him if the tables were turned? What did he hope to gain by sending them away like this? Did he think they'd magically see the error of their ways from this? No, he wasn't that much of an idealist. In all likelihood, all he'd done is avoid having to kill them himself and allowed them to invade and kill others at a later date when they needed more humanity.

But he was okay with that. Even if he was an idiot for it, even if it was nothing more than him avoiding the problem and likely allowing two killers to leave rewarded, he could live with a choice like that. Because though he was fully capable of killing if push came to shove, the feeling of blood on his hands and the wave of coldness that came with ending a life, was truly something did not wish to experience more of if he didn't have to.

Moving forward and starting into a run, the Prophet got no more than a few steps forward before halting. Not too further ahead, just before the bridge that would lead him to the Lordvessel, countless Red Phantoms began to fade into view and rise forward. Each of them carrying different weapon like short swords, whips, and catalyst. It was quite the frightening sight for anyone going against them to behold.

"Goddammit. This is just...the most annoying thing." the Prophet said with an annoyed sigh, as if being outnumber by people who want to kill him was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. As they all rose to their feet and locked eye's with his, the Prophet spoke aloud to all who where present as he withdrew the blessed Astora Straight Sword from his satchel and gave it a skillfully spin in his hands. "Alright, guys. I don't have time to play around, so I'll make this offer only once. Please, leave this place now. I don't want to have to kill any of you, but If you stay here and get in my way, then I will go through you. So please, I ask that you not force me to do that."

At this, the only response he received was for the Phantoms to wordlessly begin to close in on him all at once, seemingly intent on overwhelming him, causing the Prophet to give a tired sigh.

"Well...guess that settles it then." Kaylen said as began to step forward to meet his fate.

FWOOO-BOOOSH

Still on the ground behind him, both the woman and the boys looked on in apprehension when they saw he mans crimson flames take on a dark and sinister hue.

"You know...In situations like this, I always wondered why the good guys never used their strongest attacks first."

SHWOOOOSH

All most as if excited by his words, the black flames quickly spread over the mans entire body and he continued to slowly walk forward.

Seeing this, the woman quickly got to her feet, grabbed the humanity that was left on the ground in front of her and proceeded to take it to her younger compatriot, who promptly crushed and used it to heal his wounds along with her using the other one.

With both of them back in fighting condition, being further strengthened by the humanity that now filled their very being and seeing the massive odds the man faced, at thought occurred. This man was strong...but he was also alone. It was just him against countless others. And he casually gave away two humanity sprites. That must mean that he must have so many inside of him that giving those away would mean nothing. Adding the fact that his back was now turned to them, this was a perfect chance for them to gain more even humanity.

He may have be strong, but he bled just like the rest of them. One humanity sprite each only bought them only so much extra time and they both feared the thought of hollowfication more than all else. It gave them more than enough cause to do something as cowardly as stab a man in the back, even as he tried to take the humane path and spare them.

They only needed one clean strike.

So looking at one another for a brief moment, they both gave a silent agreement on their next action with nothing but a nod. Deafly standing on their feet, they both readied themselves, with the boy tightening his grip on the shortsword he carried and the woman trying her best to relax her nerves in preparation of using her pyromancy.

Then, when they were sure his attention was focused solely on those in front of him, they charged at the man from behind. The boy pulling his sword back as he prepared to impale him in the back and the woman igniting her hands to burn him to cinders.

They were so close to gaining the one strike they needed. After all, they weren't wrong. The Prophet could be killed by a blade just as easily as any other man and he did indeed take pity on them and let his guard down.

It was unfortunate that as they drew closer and their victory was within their grasp, they grew careless and squandered what was a essentially a golden opportunity. They rushed things and it cost them. Instead of keeping their composure, they hastened. For a moment and not a instant longer, a silence hung in the air around the Prophet. At least to his sharpened mind it did anyway.

His heart beat hard and the air around him thickened. Without even realizing it, he froze in his tracks. The striding of footsteps greeting his instincts, giving him more than enough time to react. So based off that moment of wild instinct and nothing more, his body moved all on his own. Mentally willing an illusion to remain in his place and stand exactly as he was just as he did so.

The first thing that that the boy, who had reach the mirage first, had realized was that that his blade seemed to hit nothing but air, even as he clearly watched it enter the mans body. It was only when the mans form seemed to dispersed as if made of mist and his gaze turned sideways, did his heart truly sink.

Standing with his burning palm placed directly at the boys cheek and his sword hanging at his side, the Prophet spoke coldly.

"So much for mercy." was all the Prophet said before he released his full force upon the boys body.

---

Gwyndolin's Chamber

Taking to the sky, it took Velka but a few moments to approach above the bridge that was the only way inside her lords chamber. Then, diving beneath the bridge and flying straight through the only entrance, she spoke aloud.

"My Lord!" Velka said flying past the carpet that held the candles and through the doorway where Gwyndolin stood with his back towards her. "I come with pertinent news."

Gwyndolin, though Velka could not see it, was tensed throughout his entire body as he stood in place. Right now his entire being was spread throughout all of Anor Londo in the multiple forms of the powerful Silver Knights and the massive Sentinels. It was not easy for him to control each of them on such a grand scale, using them all in the complicated efforts of both battling the never-ending forces of the Red Invaders and giving support to the injured Soldiers who also battled at their side.

"Ugh, speak quickly then." Gwyndolin grunted as he gave just enough of his mental awareness to hear what she had to say. " I must maintain my focus, lest all be lost."

"The cause of all this stems from an item carried by an Undead in golden armor name Lautrec. These intruders flock here because he has beckoned them to come and they will not cease appearing until he has been slain." Velka explained as simply as she could. "I have the Prophet heading towards him now. He has spoken that Lautrec will be headed towards the Lordvessel."

"What?! How did a human come so far into the city without any notice?!" Gwyndolin said angrily, almost losing his focus on the Knights he controlled.

"Without notice my lord? I don't understand. Were you not the one who had him impris-?" Velka started, but stopped what the sound of moving armor reach her ears from behind her.

Looking around, both Velka and Gwyndolin watched with rising anger as twelve Red Phantoms faded into existence around them.

"Heretics!" Gwyndolin said, absolutely seething with hatred at the sight of these humans appearing here. "Thou see fit to trample upon the tomb of the Great Lord? You will all suffer for your transgressions."

Velka, with her anger just as great as Gwyndolin, shifted her hands in a claw like fashion, summoning five sphere's of blue light and mentally willed one in front of her while the rest circled around her body. Soon enough, the sphere in front of her seemed to shift, with one end extending and sharpening to a fine tip and the other forming a simple curved hilt.

Grabbing what was now effectively an ethereal, blue sword from the air and holding it in a stance that was fit for fencing, Velka spoke in a calm tone that belayed her heated aggression, though her cold glare was more than enough to show just how displeased she was.

"My lord, please allow me handle these interlopers. I will stand guard, while you focus on ensuring as many of our soldiers survive as you can and that the city does not crumble from the inside out. " Velka said as the remaining blue sphere's continued to circle her person and focused on the enemies all around her. She could use her pyromancy to overwhelm them, but she would rather not damage this place any more than she needed to if she could help it. "Once the pressure has been relived to a comfortable point and our solider are in order enough to hold their ground without you, focus on sending aid near the Lordvessel to end this. The Prophet will be the man in the tattered robes and may likely already be in battle with Lautrec by the time you turn your attention there."

Seeing her step forward to face the intruders, Gwyndolin gave only one final order before turning his back and doing as his trusted ally advised.

"Very well. Ensure that each and every one of them perish swiftly in my twilight. Allow none that set foot on this sacred ground to escape thy grasp." Gwyndolin ordered directly.

Hearing this, Velka gaze narrowed as she swung her blade down to her side, testing its weight and fluidity, as she walked forward and spoke her next words.

"Without fail, my lord."

---

Just Outside Ornstein and Smough's Fogwall

He remembered when things were simple. When things were easy. When the only thing he had to concern himself with was his own survival.

For years, he'd done whatever was necessary to keep himself human. Killed however many were necessary. He remembered at one point that he'd once managed to hunt a group of twelve people from the shadows of a ruined township, never allowing himself to seen once as he killed them off one by one. He fought off countless warriors who came seeking revenge for those he'd slain and taken their humanity as well. Soon, a need for survival came to be something he actually enjoyed: Undead hunted each other all the time after all. He just happened to be more skilled at the act then most. So day in and day out, he'd hunt. Seek out prey for their humanity and claim it as his own.

For years, his life consisted of complete isolation and a routine hunt that left him with the blood of countless others on his hands. It was him against the world.

He'd never been happier.

In time however, he found himself wondering the land. Not search for anything in particular. Just roaming. He had plenty of humanity and souls that would keep him whole for months. All was as it should be. But then he ruined it all for himself. He allowed himself to fall prey to oldest problem faced by every man...

But looking back on things, it didn't matter now.

He'd ripped and cleaved his way outside his prison and into this place, with no plan or any idea where he was going. Not that he cared. In fact, he welcomed those that came to take his life. Once he'd made his way through the massive building and made his way down the stairs to very open area of the building, he found the sight of Red Phantoms fighting and overwhelming what appeared to be massive, inhuman looking knights to be more than pleasing.

It was a simple matter to sit back and allow the two opposing forces to battle one another, with the Red Phantoms becoming victorious from their superior numbers alone, and it was an even simpler to handle those that remained once the battle had concluded.

Walking down the stairs in a casual manner, he quickly caught their attention as he expertly twirled his twin shotels in his hands.

They were all such boring opponents, all wearing just barely what could be considered armor and wielded run down, old shortswords. They just barely even held his attention as he easily countered and redirected their blows to the side, before gutting each and every one of them.

Once they were no longer capable of getting in his way, he walked past their fading corpses, leaving those who did not die instantly from his blade to bleed out along the ground. With each of their fall causing black wisp to fly from their bodies and into his, he continued to walk forward until he came upon a massive fog wall.

Knowing that these mysterious land marks usually meant that a dangerous threat was ahead, he honestly didn't know what he should do next. There was no point in turning back, but what lay forward may-

"HEY!" a voice suddenly called out behind him.

Turning around, he came upon the sight of a masked man standing at the top of the stairway where only just he came from. He was breathing heavily, as if he had just run a marathon to get here. But the most capturing thing about him was that his ragged clothing and the sword he carried was covered nearly entirely in blood all the way to the hilt.

"Well, well, look at you. Another no-name undead coming to meet his end." he said as he turned around a slowly began to walk towards this new challenger. "Tis quite the pity."

"Having a hard time remembering me, Lautrec?" the new comer said angrily as he walked down the stairs and took off the mask that covered his face, actually earning a moment of pause from the golden armored knight. "Ring any bells now, you son of a bitch?"

Once the moment had passed, Lautrec gave a dry chuckle at who he was seeing.

"Heh...Keh, heh, heh, well, isn't this a surprise." Lautrec laughed aloud. "Out of all the old friends I thought I'd run into here, you'd have to be the last one on the list, boy."

"You bastard, you think this is something to laugh about?" the Prophet said his rage boiling over the all the blood and death that he had witnessed on his path following behind this madman. The halls and rooms where all littered with corpses of fallen Darkmoon blades, Painting Guardians and sighs of battle, couple that with the numerous Phantoms that he was forced to butcher along the way and it was an understatement to say that the Prophet was not in his normal carefree mood.

"What's wrong, boy? Upset because you got a little red on you? I remember you being a lot funnier the last time we met." Lautrec mocked coldly, causing the Prophets anger to rise as he descended the stairs without breaking eye contact from the lunatic in front of him. "Go on. Give me something to laugh about."

"So many people have died here today because of you." the Prophet seethed as he reached the bottom of the stairs and continued forward until they both were standing in the middle of the massive building, with only a few feet of empty space being the only thing between them.

"Heh. You know, that actually is pretty hilarious." Lautrec laughed dryly with a smile. "Should I weep for the pathetic pawns of the gods losing their lives?"

The Prophet could only shake his head at this.

"Lautrec...I can't understand you. How can you kill so many people and cause so many deaths a feel absolutely nothing?" the Prophet asked, not even sure himself where these words came from.

Lautrec could only give a slight smile at hearing this.

"My, my, thats quite the comment coming from someone covered in just as much blood as I am." was his only response.

"What do you hope to gain by doing this? That item you have. The Dried Finger. It only invites death upon yourself."

"How surprising." Lautrec said curiously. "So you know of the little trinket I've discovered? Well, congratulations seem to be in order."

"You have to know that what you've done can only end badly for you." the prophet said in further questioning. "These Phantoms won't ever stop coming for you now that you've summoned them with the Dried Finger. Not to mention that even if they don't kill you, eventually one of the gods would have. So why do it? Your not stupid enough to pointlessly throw your life away like this, so why?"

At this, Lautrec gave a pause. He did not look away, nor did he show any signs of aggression or ridicule, he just paused.

When he spoke next, it was not of the same mocking tone that he had used before.

"I've got a better question for you, boy." the Golden Knight started eerily. "Why is it that you wish to kill me?"

"Are you kidding me? Look at what you've done and ask me that again." the Prophet said in anger.

"Do you hold a grudge against me for the deaths of those knights then? No, you don't. I can tell from a glance that your nothing like them. They've lived in relative safety and luxury here in there precious city, pretending to be civil and wearing fancy armor, while your sporting little more than rags. I doubt they've have anything to do with you in the slightest." Lautrec countered.

"There still people, Lautrec! Innocent people just trying to make it through while living with the curse." the Prophet said in outrage. "And you've butchered so many of them nothing."

"Keh, heh, heh, your such a naïve bleeding heart, boy" Lautrec laughed. "Answer me this then. Do you mourn for the lives they have to take in order to maintain their humanity? Do you seek vengeance upon the Blades for their actions as well? Because unless their god has some stash of humanity in his keeping, I doubt their hands are no cleaner then mine or yours."

"Should that justify your selfish slaughter of them all?!" the Prophet exclaimed, growing further in outrage at his claims.

"HAHAHAHAHA!" Lautrec actually threw his head back, giving a loud bout of laughter. "That's rich. Yes, boy, I'm selfish. But aren't we all?"

The Prophet stared hard at Lautrec, but did not say a word, his gaze piercing the Golden Knight.

Lautrec, though the Prophet could not see it because of his mask, turned his lips up in a feral grin as he spoke his next words.

"Let me explain something to you, child. I'll be the first to admit I'm selfish, but how are you any or any of them any better? You think I'm a butcher? An inhuman monster? Heh, take my word for it, my actions can't hold a candle to the horrors they've done." Lautrec said plainly. "And lets face facts. You might think your righteous, fighting for something great, but aren't you just as guilty? After all, are you not covered in the blood of your victims just as I? Will you happily discard the humanity you've gained from their deaths in disgust? No. You will covet it and hold onto its strength. Not that I blame you. After all, most of these fools have more humanity than they know what to do with. I think we'd put it to much better use than they would."

"You son of a-"

"Of maybe its even more than that. Maybe you do it not for the humanity, but for the favor of that goddess." Lautrec said, gaining nothing but a deeper scowl from the young pyromancer. "Heh, seems I hit the nail on the right on head then. Its quite amazing how far a man will go for a pretty face. I believe I can relate."

"Enough with this bullshit, Lautrec." the prophet said as he put his mask back on his face and pulled a dagger from his satchel, readying both it and his holy blade for battle. "I didn't come here to talk things out. I'm here to kill you and put an end to all of this."

Hearing his words, Lautrec got into a low cat-like stance as he spoke his next words with a happy feral grin.

"Well, look at you. So eager for bloodshed you can hardly contain yourself." Lautrec said, speaking his next words in an almost sinister tone. "We really are two pea's in a pod, don't you agree?"

Just as Lautrec finished his sentence, his mind suddenly went into overdrive as the boys body suddenly faded away like smoke right before his very eye's. His eye's search and focused hard until finally he noticed the distortion of the area in front of him seemed to form a body.

Striking forward with a swing from his holy blade, the Prophet was somewhat surprised as Lautrec quickly blocked the blow and delivered a counter attack of his own, aimed a landing a cut at his throat. Allowing his body to naturally readjust itself and fade back into view, the Prophet swiftly brought his head backwards just out of the blades reach, simultaneously using that momentum to bring his dagger flying in an upward slice that Lautrec had to jump back a bit to avoid.

That moment he took to regain himself was more than enough for the Prophet to ready his blades once more.

"Tricks? You'll have to do a little better than that kill me." Lautrec mocked.

"Any true warrior of the sword will be able to see through it." the Prophet said, remembering the explanation for his mirage ability. "It take focus and more than a bit of effort to create the mirages for a few moments, but if he can see through them and counterattack, then I'll only tire and put myself at a disadvantage if I keep using it. If that's the case, then I'll just do this the old fashion way."

With his plan of action decided and his weapons at the ready, the Prophet charged forward. What followed next could only be described as an intense clash of blades from both sides as they charged one another. With a flurry of strikes flying in all directions so fast that it almost appeared that their weapons were nothing more than a blur, neither of them appeared to hold the edge over the other. Their magically enhanced bodies and attacks seemed to be more or less on par with one another.

As seconds turned to minutes, the only thing that was heard between the two was the clash of metal every time one parried the others blade. With the Prophet following his instincts an allowing the flow of battle to come naturally to him and Lautrec delivering attacks at precise angles and speeds that only one who has experienced countless battles could hope employ, they both moved across the marble floor in a seemingly endless dance of blades. As they attacked, dodged and moved faster and faster, it was more than a shock for both of them when their rings began to glow.

With the Prophets Blue Tearstone ring giving off an bright azure glow almost in defiance to Lautrec's Red Tearstone Ring which giving of a crimson one.

Though neither had a moment to truely question this occurrence, they both knew that the rings only reacted this way when its wielder was in imminent danger.

With both of their muscle growing fatigued from the constant assault of blows, it was only a mater of time before one of them made a mistake.

CLANG

Surprisingly enough, it was the prophet that made the first slip. Taking advantage of what as only a momentary lapse in movement, Lautrec delivered a swift and precise slash that cut deep into the side of the Prophet left hand, causing the dagger he held to go flying from his hand. Wasting no time in capitalizing on this opening, Lautrec sent one of his blades toward his neck.

FWOOOSH

Gritting his teeth through the pain, the Prophet ignited his now bleeding hand in a blazing flame and slammed it upon Lautrec's chest. With his powerful golden armor protecting him from a majority of the attack, Lautrec only felt a strong pressure on his chest as he was forced back a few feet, skillfully managing to maintain his footing even as he slid backward.

Eyeing the still standing knight, the prophet retrieved his remaining dagger from his satchel, while Lautrec got back into his low stance once again. Each warrior made no move upon each other as they both took a few moments to catch their breath.

"He's fast. But I can keep up. Sooner or later, he's gonna to slip." the Prophet thought as he glared at his foe.

"Once I wear him down, the boy's finished." Lautrec thought with a dangerous grin.

Soon enough, before either could re-engage, they both were met with a bit of a surprise as five Red Phantoms suddenly began to appear around them. As they rose from the ground and faded fully into existence, both the Prophet and Lautrec scoffed in annoyance at having their battle interrupted.

With all of them glancing from the Prophet then back to Lautrec, they only needed a moment to go on the offensive. With three of them charging towards Lautrec and two moving towards the Prophet.

Moving forward to meet them, the Prophet was almost insulted by the amateurish way the Phantom ran towards him. This man was big and obviously used to people being intimidated by his massive stature. Walking forward with his mountainous stature, holding his longsword at his side and growling like an animal, it was all to easy for the Prophet to redirect the blow the carried all of his weight to the side with his sword and impale the man with his dagger. Quickly ending what should have been a drawn out battle and kicking him off the blade, the Prophet then quickly knocked the blow of the second phantom to the side just as he had done the first and not a second after, brought his blade upward. Slashing through the mans neck and cleaving through him with one powerful strike.

As warm blood spilled from the Phantoms wounds and splattered across his mask, the Prophet turned towards Lautrec, who was just finishing off the last of his attackers, and smiled.

He'd held off on using his Tainted Pyromancy since it both injured and slowed him down, which was all but a death sentence considering who he was fight. But this was an ideal opportunity.

So letting his dagger fall from his hand, the Prophet put his hand into a clawed state and allow his black flames to violently envelop his flesh, willing all that he could to gather into his palm and form a ball. Then, giving something that was a mixture of a glare and a grin, he threw the now massive black sphere toward Lautrec and the red Phantom that he had just gutted and killed.

Lautrec only had time to give a sharp gasp as he was hit face first by the ball of darkened flame. Along with the feeling of flame scorching his skin, Lautrec's entire body was thrown backwards onto the stairs that lead to the fog wall by the unrelenting force of the explosion the sphere made.

"HOW DO YOU LIKE MY NEW PYROMANCY, JACKASS?!" the Prophet screamed in a mocking tone as he threw his holy sword to the ground, and ignited his body fully in the burning black flame.

SHWOOOOSH BOOSH BOOSH BOOSH BOOSH

With more satisfaction than he cared to admit, the Prophet rained blow after blow on the Knights crumpled form, throwing as many of the black sphere's as his body would allow. Each one hitting its mark directly and mercilessly hammering his foe against the stairs, his armor only slightly mitigating the burning flames but unable to stop the explosion from shattering some of his bones.

By the time all was said and done, the Prophet fell to his knee's and was left gasping for breath as his mind tried to deal with the pain of his flesh being incinerated from his bones. Lautrec, for he most part, was actually somehow still alive, despite the onslaught of pyromancy that was thrown at his body. Though the front of his armor was scorched into a messy black tint, and his flesh was in even worse condition than the Prophets.

"Heh..gotta...give it to that ring." the Prophet mocked even as he struggled to get to his own two feet and deal with his own self inflicted wounds. "Kept you alive...even through all of that. Not that it matters."

Putting a shaky hand inside his satchel, the Prophet retrieved his Estus Flask and had took four swigs of the Estus inside, leaving him with just barely any left over. Then, picking up the dagger and placing it inside back inside his satchel, then picking up his Astora Straight sword, he walked towards the injured knight ready to deal the final blow.

Just barely hearing the boys words, Lautrec's mind flittered into the past. Back to when he had found his purpose and a woman who he would go to any lengths for...then his mind traveled down the road that lead to her betrayal and his subsequent imprisonment inside of that cold and frigid painting. He could see it all clear as day as if he was still in that moment.

Reliving it all again, even if it was nothing but memories, had the effect of drowning out all of the pain he was feeling, numbing him to all the scared tissue and flesh that was burned beneath his armor. Slowly and with a few heavy grunts, he struggled to turn to his side and regain his balance. Eventually though, he was able to stand up once again.

"Stand on your feet or make yourself comfortable on the ground, doesn't make any difference to me." the prophet said as he slowly continued forward, wanting Lautrec to feel every bit as afraid of imminent death as all his victims did. "This bloodbath ends now."

"H...How righteous you must feel, boy. Such a loyal dog. Clinging to your pathetic morels, hoping that if you just keep playing the good man...you won't fall to darkness like the rest of us." Lautrec mocked even with his injuries. "Keh, you've got no idea that your just as much of a tool as I was. And just as disposable."

Though his injuries were numerous and his body was at its limits, Lautrec entire being, his very soul cried out to him, telling him he could not allow things to end here like this. Without even realizing where they came from, his next word left his thoughts and made themselves known.

"After everything I've fought through...everything I did for her? She just...turns your back on me? Uses me...and then leaves me to rot in some prison like trash?" the wounded Knight said as his charred hand slowly balled into a fist. "Y..You think I'll just die-..in a hovel like this? Never!"

Hearing this, the Prophet stopped in his tracks. It became clear to him in mere moments that Lautrec wasn't talking to him right now. These were words clearly born of anger meant for another person.

"Your talking about Fina, right?" the Prophet said plainly and without empathy. "Well, don't worry. Once I finish things here, I'll be sure to find her too and settle the score."

Just barely finding the strength, Lautrec moved his hand towards his belt and glared at the boy walking towards him.

"T...This..Isn't...over..." Lautrec said, his burned flesh making talking both difficult and painful. His hatred and defiance at being killed here like this being that sole thing that allowed his hand to move and wrap around a small item tightly. "Until I bring this damned city down around her...it will never end!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep talking. It only makes this-." the Prophet said with a smirk.

BUM-BUMP

His words caught in his throat and he stopped in his track. He heart. His very soul felt a feeling of deep apprehension grip him. As if some terrible, unseen force had just turned it gaze upon him. The feeling was so strong that the Prophet instinctively tightened his grip on his blade and he gasped sharply.

Regaining his focus, the Prophet saw that Lautrec was holding onto something in his hand tightly, but his mind could think straight enough to actually process what that something was.

Unfortunately, he would never get the opportunity to calm himself and think it over as a shallow pool of black mass suddenly formed between both him and Lautrec.

And what arose from that small area of blackness filled the Prophet with both shock and terror.

"Dear god..." was he could say as his body instinctively took a step backward and his eye's widened.

---

Anor Londo- City Grounds

The task of assembling others was not an easy one to accomplish at first. Moving through the city alone while it was being invaded was an incredibly dangerous action. But one by one, solider by solider, she had managed to gather a fair number of fellow Darkmoon Blades and organized them into an effective force.

"Momentum is slow, but we are making progress." the Darkmoon Knightess thought to her self as she watched each Knight battle and cover each others flank. "If we are wary of our surroundings and are careful, then soon enough we can-"

"AAAAAAAAHH!" Someone suddenly screamed.

Turning to the sounds of the scream, the knight paled under her helmet at what her eye's met. It was a Knight being held by his throat by something she had only imagined in her wildest nightmares. The fear only grew further when more of them began to appear in number all around her and the Knights she'd brought together.

"By Gwyn, FALL BACK! EVERYONE FALL BACK!" the Knightess ordered in a near absolute panic. It was to late to save the screaming knight. I f they remained here in an effort to aid him, they would all be slaughtered and she knew it. "RETREAT TO THE UPPER CITY!"

With the order given, the Knightess slowly backed away before turning on her heel and running in a near full sprint. With many of the Knights actually staring up in wide eyed fear at the enemy that had appeared before them, before following close behind.

---

Gwyndolin's Chamber

Things were going smoothly enough for Velka.

Those that appeared in the chamber invaded in small numbers and were appearing after long durations of one another. Not that it mattered for someone like her. And though she was somewhat worried for him, she knew the prophet could handle himself well. She had instructed him and her lord well. Soon enough their counter attack would begin and the invasion could be over.

She was waiting patiently for the next wave of them to arrive when Gwyndolin suddenly released a sharp gasp and actually took a step backward from his current position. How body showing all the signs of absolute terror

"My lord?" Velka asked curiously. "Did something happ-"

"We need to leave! We need to leave this chamber now!" the Dark Sun exclaimed with genuine fright as he turned towards her. "We will be at a disadvantage in closed quarters."

"Disadvantage? There is nothing these humans could attempt that I can not stand against." Velka said assuredly. "Remaining here is the best way to ensure your safety and for you to maintain control of-."

The goddess said nothing more as the sound akin to someone rising out of a tide of water greeted her ears and stopped her train of thought.

"Its too late. They're here." Gwyndolin said feircly as he retrieved his catalyst.

All around them, the forms of what only just barely human began to rise from the ground, the remnants of some sort of black liquid dripping from their armor and fading into nothingness at their feet as they rose.

Velka gasped and went widened as she fully recognized just what she was seeing.

Their armor was fashioned into a shape that mirrored that of darkened bone, with their mask being made in the horrific image of a human skull. Their blades were wide and thick, dripping with whatever the black mass was that covered their reddened body. They were an ancient enemy to both the gods and all of humanity. They were those that had fallen to the dark alongside their kings.

"Anor Londo been beset by Dark Wraiths."

---

?

Even as twilight fell upon the city, they did not leave their post.

They knew exactly what their mission was and the importance of what they were protecting. They were to hold this position above all else.

One of them was more than content to remain here as told. But the other, the warrior within him urged him to take action. Only the orders directly received from his lord and his honor to follow those orders to his dying breath stayed his hand.

But then something happened. A wave of unease enveloped him. Call it instinct born of a lifetime of battle.

That was when a creature, rising out of an abysmal murk, suddenly rose from the ground on the level far below them.

BOOOSH

He barely gave the creature any time to react as he threw his cross spear like a mighty javelin, piercing straight through its body and pinning its body to the ground with a thunderous crash. Jumping from his position to the lower level far below them, he landed with a heavy thud without showing any effort in cushioning his fall. Moving forward, he yanked his weapon free from the corpse and the ground it was buried in.

He then turned his attention towards the fog wall that cut them both off from the rest of the city.

If these old foes such as these had made their way into the city, then perhaps it was time that the lion took action.

---

AND THE PLOT THICKENS, LADIES AND GENTALMEN!

Thats right, you read that correctly. I'm taking the old golden bastard off the bench and actually gonna have him show these plebeians how kill an invader how they did it back in his day.

Now, before I finish things up here, just gonna put a few parting comments out there.

Everyone's pretty interested in what Oscar and the others are going to do and how their going to evolve. I figure that it would be awesome to give them the jobs of dealing with the chaos witches and also the ancient dragon. Definitely a hell of a lot of room for creativity there.

Also, before anyone mentions it, yes, I do realize that I took a few liberties with giving Velka the ability to use sorcerer's without a catalyst in this chapter. But I felt that since just a piece of her hair alone is enough to perform miracles, she had to have been packing some immense magical capabilities. But even though I like to believe she's incredibly powerful in her own right, I'll try not to go crazy with her left and right, since I know I'd kinda be playing with fire. As for explaining the ethereal sword she created, once again I took some liberties with a Dark Souls 3 sorcery called the Farron Flashsword and I maaaaybe have been plying a bit to much final fantasy 15.

For those of you wondering why I brought the Darkwraiths into this, its because s I was writing this chapter, I didn't get the feeling that the stakes were high enough. Sure Anor Londo was relatively getting its ass handed to it, but I never felt like there was much of a true threat to our main plot boys, like Velka or Ornstein. And so in come the old enemies that sided with the abyss.

As a final comment, I want to say that this gives me soooo much goddamn room for creativity on where to take things. And so, I think I'll open up the floor to you guys tell me what should you think should go down next. Because holy hell, l there is almost to many awesome paths I could take this. So I am completely open to suggestions for this monumental moment in the story.

I literally don't even know just how exactly I want the Darkwraiths to be personality wise. I could make them the silent darkness champions that need no words spoken to strike fear into the hearts of all, the classic old evil path. Or I could give them, at least some of them, interesting personality's that make them their own unique characters. Maybe one could be the cunning with mysterious, yet questionable loyalty to Kaathe, maybe one of them holds a grudge against the gods because of something that happened in the past and Kaaath offered them a chance to take revenge. Remember, things aren't black and white and the gods hands are most definitely NOT clean in this. This is just me brainstorming on the spot, but see what I mean when there are big decisions to be made.

Also, this is a PRIME moment for the Prophet to create a brand new ability for himself. And the creative choices for that is just as overwhelming than how I'm going to write Darkwraiths. Maybe he fights and gets drained of his humanity, leaving him an unfeeling, unchained husk thats not only a danger to the Darkwraith, but to the gods themselves. This sub sequentially open up a sub plot of Gwyndolin wanting to put the Prophet down for the greater good and Velka maybe deciding to protect the Prophet despite her loyalty. Or hell, maybe the Prophet in his desperation to stay alive and protect those he loves, unlocks the ability to use the power of his Dark Sigil like the ashen one in Dark Souls 3, taking his first step to truly becoming something thats not human or god. But again, this is just me brainstorming awesome idea off the top of my head.

So like I said, I'm going to leave what happens next completely open to the floor for debate because I am super interested in what idea's you guys have for regarding the Prophet, Darkwraiths, or even the gods. Remember, this story will change tremendously depending on outside opinion, so don't hold back, guys.

This is Supreme Gamer, Sighing out.

P.S. Oh and don't think I've forgotten that Lautrec had to have gotten past Pricilla to leave the Painted World. Thats like a huge setup for the Prophet and the Crossbreed relationship. Nothing written in stone yet, but maaybe her little run in makes her a little less trusting towards the Prophet when they first meet. Should make for a good bit of storytelling leading up to the fondling of a lifetime. :)