(SINS AND CROWNS)
Gael entered a battle stance, his eyes watching every slight twitch of the corpse. To think he'd be fighting against the Bearer, the one who for a time found a cure to the curse, the one Gael and countless undead had looked up to as a hero. Did he really stand a chance against him? He did not know, "Petre, step back. I will handle this."
"No Gael," Spoke Petre as he walked up beside Gael, putting down the crates, "Not this time. It's time I start pulling my weight around here."
Gael gave a glance of concern. Petre had no weapons, nor did he know how well the man could fight. Looking around Gael noticed that on the hilt of the tossed aside armor lay a dagger. For Petre, this was a life-or-death situation that man didn't have to be in. But then again, what right did he have to refuse a man wanting to fight alongside a friend? "You see there on that armor? There's a weapon, use it. I will keep him busy."
Before another word could be spoken the Bearer charged at Gael, their blades clashing in a matter of a second as Gael blocked the attack. As Gael defended himself and distracted the Bearer, Petre rushed towards the armor and grabbed the dagger. Gael then parried a blow before dashing to the side, avoiding a downward strike from the Bearer's elegant blade that crushed the stone where he stood.
Gael swung at the Bearer, leaving a nasty cut on their chest. The Bearer reeled back in pain, having lost familiarity with the sensation after so long. Using this moment of opportunity, Gael swung and landed another blow, adding another gnashing wound on the Bearer's chest.
The Bearer would have been struck a third time, but they then recovered by rolling out of the way before plunging his blade forward. The metal cut through the right side of Gael's neck, who immediately moved back to avoid another swing from the Bearer.
Meanwhile as Petre grabbed the dagger, he noticed four rings on the floor. Perhaps one of them was magical? He had to try, he needed all he could to help Gael. Petre's suspicions were confirmed as the rings changed size before his eyes to fit his fingers. One ring was of some sort of green flower, another a blue ring with a dragon crest on it, and a ring that looked like it was made of tiny daggers, and a ring fit for a king.
Petre felt strange magic flow through him as he put each ring on him, save for the last one which he felt nothing from. He felt faster, stronger, and less tired. Petre flexed his arms and tightened and loosed his fingers. He could get used to this.
As this happened, Gael slowly forced the Bearer back, gaining ground with every swing and landing more wounds on the Bearer in the process. The Bearer blocked and dodged. But then, as a faint glow of color grew in the Bearer's milky white eyes, the undead roared and not only blocked Gael's attack but locked blades and pushed him up against a nearby wall.
Then with another roar the Bearer kicked Gael hard, sending the slave knight through the wall and into a nearby stone hooded statue, which crumbled onto Gael.
Gael laid there discombobulated as stone slid off of him and Bearer prepared to rush and finish him off. But then Petre snuck up and rushed behind the Bearer, leaping into the air with new found strength as he stabbed into the Bearer's neck. What little blood was in the Bearer spewed out on Petre. Immediately Petre got off with the dagger before the Bearer swung where Petre was. Petre gasped for breath but felt his stamina return to him in seconds from the green ring he wore. He looked with amazement at the dagger and rings he wore, "I can do this. I can fight!"
The Bearer fully turned to Petre, running and swinging like a madman. Petre's eye darted all about, he knew that one hit was all that was needed to kill Petre. He only saw one way to avoid the attack. At the last second, Petre counted to himself as he made a guess and dashed forward just before the Bearer's blade made contact. It worked, Petre avoiding the attack somehow. Using this opportunity Petre sliced at the Bearer's leg, leaving another trickling albeit small wound.
Petre wasn't doing a lot of damage to this guy, but he was doing something! Together he and Gael could win this!
But the Bearer was kept up with this. Right after Petre left the wound, his eyes widened and everything slowed down for him as he saw in the corner of his eye the Bearer lunging their blade straight at Petre's face. The blade would have gone straight through Petre's head, if it were not for Gael suddenly appearing behind Petre and striking down the blade to the ground with his own.
Gael then swung repeatedly at the Bearer, who pulled back his blade and blocked a few strikes, but not all. The two undead then began to dart about the maze of statues, jumping in and out of hiding as sparks flew. A few statues were torn into pebbles in the onslaught as a cloud of dust covered the corners of the chamber.
Then as they clashed the Bearer landed a blow, knocking Gael prone with a slice to the legs. But before they could finish Gael off, just like before, Petre ran towards the Bearer. "GET OFF HIM!" Yelled Petre as he swung with all his might and managed to almost completely slice off the Bearer's right foot with the titanite dagger.
The Bearer retaliated and swung their blade at Petre. Petre was less skilled than Gael and couldn't avoid the swing. Thankfully it was the flat side of the blade, which meant he was not cut in half, however it instead sent him flying hard right into where he left the crates, his bones audibly breaking as the crates only slightly cushioned his fall.
From one of the broken crates, the mask he had been carrying slid out and across the ground next to Petre. The Bearer, seeing this, froze for a moment, as if in awe at the sight of the mask, before jolting towards Petre at full speed. Petre coughed up blood and tried to focus his blurry vision as he got up and grabbed the mask. He soon remembered where he was as he saw the giant raising their weapon to swing at Petre.
Instinctively, Petre raised his arms while still holding the mask to shield himself. The blade would have hit the mask but at the last moment the Bearer stopped themself and rammed their hilt into Petre's chest, who dropped the mask in the process. The Bearer then could be clearly seen trying to grab the mask mid fall, but Petre was not out yet.
As hard as he could, Petre as he fell threw the dagger straight into the Bearer's face, landing it right into one of their white eyes. The Bearer toppled backwards as they leaned on their almost severed foot. But was quick to get up by leaning on nearby structures for support, ripping out the dagger in the process and throwing it to the ground and beside the mask it dropped.
With another scream the Bearer raised their sword to slice Petre's head off. But then Gael rushed the Bearer, who turned and swung at Gael. Gael stepped back and avoided the swing, however Gael quickly switched hands as he noticed the Bearer had actually managed to slice off Gael's own main hand.
Now Gael wanted to finish this off. There was no telling how long it could take for him to revive. He wasn't sure he could revive as fast as he did before all those other times, even a few seconds would be enough time for this warrior to kill Petre.
Gael began focusing not on the Bearer but their weapon, swinging at it repeatedly as he tried to break his foe's guard. Eventually Gael knocked it out of the Bearer's hand. It only flew a few inches away, but it was enough for Gael to open the Bearer like a surgeon. Plunging his blade, Gael opened the Bearer's chest wide.
Then as quickly as he could Gael rammed the Bearer, who was stuck on his blade, through walls and statues. Life faded from Bearer's eyes as they closed and Gael stuck them to the wall, using his sword like a nail.
...
...
But then the Bearer felt it.
...
Memories flashed before their eyes, memories long forgotten. They reminded them of a thing they had not felt for a long time. Something vital. Something that had given them purpose.
The joy of fighting. The will to win. To overcome every foe no matter the odds between them. And their oath to keep a promise no matter what.
The missing pieces of the Bearer's body dissipated and reformed on the Bearer. And in the empty left hand of the bearer, a talisman formed while all the while the blade Gael had knocked aside disappeared.
Then, as ancient energy formed around the Bearer, their eyes shot open, full of color, full of purpose, full of rage and life. WRATH OF THE GODS.
Gael was sent flying back with his sword as a bludgeoning light rammed itself into Gael and the surroundings of the Bearer, destroying numerous statues in the process. Then before Gael could get up, the bearer placed their hands to the ground, causing pillars of dark flames to sprout from the earth all around them. Gael rolled over, avoiding a pillar from hitting him.
Meanwhile as Petre was limping over to grab both the mask and the dagger the Bearer tore off, Petre saw the red glow beneath the dagger and mask forming. Quickly, Petre moved back after grabbing the mask knowing he couldn't grab the dagger in time, barely avoiding the pillar of fire that rose which sent the dagger through the air and to the opposite side of the room.
When the flames disappeared, Gael managed to get up. The Slave Knight looked for the Bearer, but found them too late. From above the Bearer, whose feet glowed with a strange blue energy, sunk their sword into Gael's right shoulder. The Bearer landed their feet on Gael's face and leapt off from it. Gael fired two corona discs at the Bearer, but the Bearer changed to something Gael had not seen for eons, a staff of Izalith staff. TWISTED BARRICADE.
Gael grunted in pain as he got a taste of his own medicine, his discs flying back at him and cutting twice as they flew eventually backwards before dissipating.
The Bearer landed, the sword swapped places with the staff, and the Bearer lunged with a forward thrust. Gael shifted his footing and knocked down the sword to the ground, the metal of both blades crying from the clash. Gael then rammed the bottom of his hilt into the Bearer's chest, then holding his own sword on both blade and handle and flipping its position, rammed his sword into the Bearer's mouth.
The Bearer grabbed the blade with both hands, dropping his sword to stop Gael from killing them. The two struggled as Gael slowly pushed the Bearer to the ground. Gael's blade was slowly cutting through the Bearer's hands and skull. Just a little longer and Gael would end the Bearer's life again. But then flames began forming in the Bearer's off hand. The Bearer quickly released their off hand from the blade and pointed their burning palm at Gael. GREAT COMBUSTION.
Gael's eyes widened as he was too late to avoid the spell, flames hot as the sun seared his face and body. Gael recoiled back from the pain, allowing the Bearer to force themself free, grab their sword, and swing at Gael. Gael managed to remain focused enough to block the blow, his feet sliding back from the force.
The two warriors' eyes locked as an ashen white light began to radiate from within the Bearer's heart who used one of his hands to cast great combustion on Gael's side. However the moment the Bearer's hands reached Gael, part of their hand touched what was left of Gael's old talisman. The two then roared as they both faded away in a misty trail, leaving behind nothing but a small chipped piece of Gael's torn canvas talisman.
Meanwhile Petre starred in utter confusion at what happened as he felt his head starting to burn.
...
...
...
(BEARER OF THE CURSE)
One cannot reside within memory for long.
The two reformed in ashen light above a gray colored sky and surrounded by ancient trees that touched the heavens like pillars. Throughout the wind, ancient dragons the size of mountains flew about, spewing flames down to the surfaces while either lightning, bolt, or arrow of all shapes and sizes shot down a few of the flying serpants. Gael fell backwards as the Bearer fell above him, swinging in a bloodlust frenzy at Gael.
Gael at first had no idea where he was, until he spotted a warrior being carried into the air and dropped by a dragon after being crushed by the steel grip of the serpent, Gael's talisman hanging by their side. So this was the Bearer's power he heard of in stories, the power to travel through the past.
The Slave Knight had no time to think any more on that as the Bearer's assault grew more aggressive.
A few ancient dragons turned their heads to see the two clash, who flew through the air like a singing shooting star as sparks flew all about them.
Meanwhile a poor dragon had unintentionally flown beneath the two undead. It didn't have a chance to move out of the way as the two went straight through it like a drill in their clash. The dragon roared its last breath, went limp, and fell downward ramming into a nearby dragon. Said dragon was sent flying from the force and weight of its dead brethren, ramming through multiple of nearby sky scraping trees before falling face first and dead on top of those trees.
Even as blood coated the two warriors' eyes and body, the two undead kept swinging at each other. Gael then changed tactics and teleported onto the falling corpse of the dragon behind the Bearer before lunging at them blade pointed forward, stabbing the Bearer in the back before they could react.
The two then descended to the earth like a comet at blinding speed, fire forming and burning around them. Life began to fade from the Bearer's eyes once more and his jack fell slack. But then he felt again, something swell in his chest. Pride, Anger, the will to win growing ever stronger. To keep their promise.
Life reformed in their eyes and their teeth clenched. The sword in their hand disappeared as in its place formed a giant club of stone, a giant warrior club. They held it tight in both their hands and swung in circles like a tornado at Gael's face, breaking every bit of bone in Gael's skull repeatedly, twisting their torso even as Gael's greatsword rested in their Torso.
The force from the Bearer's strikes forced Gael's body to spin, causing the Bearer to be on top again right before they hit the dirt with a boom like thunder; smoke, dirt and dust flying everywhere. The Bearer roared as they swung again, causing Gael's face to concave slightly. But before the Bearer could strike again, Gael blocked the club with his sword. Ashen light glowed once more and the two disappeared, leaving the club behind.
..
..
In the middle of a burning fort and crumbling homes, amidst a one-sided battle of undead soldiers against faceless giants, the two appeared in a quick flash. Gael reformed behind the Bearer, who rolled forward and avoided the blow. Mid roll the Bearer formed a staff with a strange blue crystal at its tip. Gael recognized the design from his eons of living, it was from the land of Olaphis.
Before Gael had any time to take action, the Bearer cast a spell the moment they stood up. SOUL GEYSER.
From the staff a spear of crystal energy shot out and struck Gael, sending him flying into a building like a cannonball as arcane energy burned his flesh. The Bearer formed crystal balls of energy around them and ran towards Gael. Gael, recognizing the spell, went pure defensive and avoided the balls as they formed into small spears but not the Bearer's next spell as they created a giant sword of magic and slashed at Gael's, stunning him as he fell to the ground.
SOUL GEYSER. Gael was sent flying through another building. Again and again, the Bearer unrelentingly fired soul geysers as they pushed Gael against a fort's walls which barely held from Gael's weight. Gael died as one of his arms and legs were blown off from the spells and his chest made into a window.
No... it wasn't over... Not yet. He had come too far to yield. He couldn't go hollow here, let alone in the past. Besides, Petre was still in the present time waiting. He had to win, no matter what. Gael's wounds healed and his missing limbs reformed as the knight roared with life, blocking another spear of energy as he instinctively used his cloak's limbs like a shield while dark energy started to glow around them.
Gael formed in front of the Bearer and struck down with both hands wielding his sword. The Bearer tried to block, but the best they did was a painful looking ring on their finger being scraped by the blade as it sunk through the right of their neck. Light glowed again and they faded away.
..
..
Forming in a wasteland of endless snow and stormy winds of ice thick as fog, Gael pulled his sword out as the Bearer screamed in pain. Gael attempted to swing again, but the Bearer swapped talismans. WRATH OF THE GODS.
Gael flew back from the force, hitting the ground hard and the Bearer leapt towards him with their sword returning to their hands. Gael rolled in the snow and avoided the strikes before rising up and blocking a couple of blows, their blades sparking like a burning flame in the foggy winds of cold.
A sound of hooves began to echo through the air along with the faint crackle of lightning as two skeletal and ginormous deer rushed out of the mist towards the two, their horns coated in electricity. Both undead warriors stopped fighting and avoided the attacks of the two deer and sliced them to ribbons before attacking each other again.
Gael then ducked low, avoiding a swing as he sliced at the Bearer's legs. The Bearer fell to the ground and Gael leapt into the air and plunged his blade deep into the Bearer's heart. Almost immediately, the Bearer revived and formed the staff of Izalith in their hand. DARK HAIL.
Cannon sized craters were left in Gael's chest as he fell backwards, his hand holding tight to his blade and causing it to come out of the Bearer as they fell. The Bearer quickly got up and reformed their sword and slashed at Gael's left hand. The blade made contact with Gael's hand and touched a piece of Gael's old shield that had been entrenched in his old hand.
The misty light formed around them, and they were gone.
..
..
Atop a cliff looming over a castle under siege, Gael's hand flew off, severed from the Bearer's attack. Gael blocked the other blows and their blades continued singing. In their clash Gael looked in the corner of his eye and could faintly see red hoods charging at a familiar castle. This... this was where his last battle before going into the painted world was. The Battle where all the Red Hoods went hollow, save for two.
Gael looked back and blocked another blow before head butting the Bearer in the face. The Bearer reeled back and casted another spell as they formed the Izalith staff. WHISPERS OF DESPAIR.
Gael felt himself weaker, more fragile and tired. Gael tried to block as the Bearers drew their sword again and swung, but Gael's defense was broken easily as his guard was overwhelmed and he was severed in two; his legs falling down the cliff and his upper body twirling in the air.
Just as quickly as he died, he revived. His lower body reformed on his body and landed on the ground with his feet.
The Bearer changed their staff to some kind of worn and rag covered spear. Before they could cast another spell Gael knocked aside the spear as Ashen light formed once more.
..
..
In a land of fire and brimstone with an ancient furnace tower of a king in the distance, they appeared in the burning field. The Bearer avoided Gael's swing, reading the Slave Knight like a book. Gael knew he had to try something new and realized that all around them was lava. With a feint, tricking the Bearer into dodging, Gael grabbed the Bearer by the face with his free hand and slammed them face first into a pool of lava.
Repeatedly the Bearer died, unable to break free from their torment. But then, Gael unintentionally loosened his grip causing the Bearer to have just enough room to avoid the head slam and kick Gael off of them. Gael was pushed back slightly and almost did what had done again, but the bearer formed a repeating crossbow and unloaded on Gael's face.
The Knight roared in pain as two bolts sunk into his eyes. The undead tore the arrows out, but of course they didn't cure his sight. Even still Gael ran towards the undead and managed to grab the crossbow before the Bearer could reload and fire again. Light formed around them and they disappeared.
..
..
In front of a giant carved image of a dragon, which had been cracked open like a gate that lead to a long cave system, the two formed within the ginormous and empty stone chamber. Gael could not see around his surroundings and swung about like a mad man with both blade and cloak.
The Bearer kept their distance firing spell,bolt, and arrow while also throwing bombs. Every time Gael lunged where he assumed the Bearer was, the Bearer had swiftly out of the way to fire again. Slowly the Bearer wore Gael down, then with a headshot to the back of the skull, Gael fell over dead.
But like the other times Gael revived and could now see his foe. He now avoided the ranged attacks and closed the distance, but not before firing his own onslaught of bolts at the Bearer, one of them landed in the Bearer's throat.
Though the bolts landed, Gael's swings did not, not even his cloak could land a blow. But Gael was not a one trick pony. In the middle of a swing, Gael formed a corona disc without thinking or realizing he was not using his talisman and fired at the Bearer whose left torso side was ripped clean off mid dodge. Gael then rammed his open palm that cast the spell straight into the bolt lodged in the Bearer's throat.
Light glowed from the bolt as the two disappeared once more.
..
..
The two formed in a desert wasteland, a wasteland of ash. Gael immediately recognized where he was from and the sunken ruins around them. In the far distance, Gael could see the homes of the pygmies, what was left of the ringed city before Gael killed them off. Gael darted back at the Bearer who had revived mid reform.
Their blades clashed again for a minute with no side landing a blow, both now fully adapted to the others fighting style. An attack was blocked, a faint was ignored, a parry was quickly recovered from before the retaliation, and death blows were dodged. Then as they locked blades both their visions grew hazy.
..
..
The two were ripped back through time, through every age they fought for brief moments, but they didn't notice the world around them change in flashes of light as they were so focused in their fighting. It was like an endless cycle of fighting, a block turned into an attack and attack turned into a block, never ending.
Even as they reappeared in the tomb they began their fighting they kept swinging.
But then Gael made a mistake, he fell for a faint, and the Bearer was quick to exploit his folly. The Bearer knocked Gael's blade down and ran towards Gael, plunging their sword into Gael's chest and pushed him through statue after statue until Gael hit the wall, leaving a crater behind as the Bearer pulled out and forced Gael to the ground, using the sword as a nail to keep him pinned.
Then forming caestus around the hands, the Bearer smashed Gael's face again and again, not even waiting for him to revive with each strike faster, harder, and bloodier. Gael could only watch and feel the pain as a spectator. Gael tried to fight back but the moment a limb was raised the Bearer would grab and rip it off before it reformed on Gael, cloak included. The Bearer's eyes were filled with pure hate and bloodlust.
The insides of Gael's head covered the ground again and again before reforming just to be smashed instantly. There was nothing he could think of or had time to do to break free. He was going to hollow here, in a torrent of endless death.
...
...
(REMAINS)
...
...
Petre, as he slumped to the ground, looked in shock at both the sudden reappearance of the two undead and the sight of what was happening to Gael. He tried to get up, but then his body began shaking, his head spiking into pain, his stomach turning, and his vision growing hazy. The wine, he needed the wine.
Suddenly, a burning sensation in his stomach formed and he hurled to the ground, collapsing into the puddle as strength started to leave his body; his sensations becoming overwhelmed from everything.
Petre groggily forced himself up, clenching his teeth as he tried to ignore his body screaming. Slowly he crawled towards the crate where the wine was and eventually opened it. Looking inside, the wine bottle was not broken, and there was still plenty of wine left for a day or two if rationed, if he had to guess. But then as his hand hovered over the bottle, Petre turned back and looked towards Gael.
His head was screaming at him with painful thumping, and instead of seeing the Bearer punching Gael he saw... himself, beating his own elderly father who didn't fight back at all. Petre wheezed and coughed more blood as he turned back and grabbed the bottle and started to open it.
But then he stopped and looked back again, seeing the Bearer beating Gael. He was too weak to do anything, like he always would be. Too weak to resist that goddess's control over him, too weak to have prevented himself from killing his father, too weak to prevent ruining all those lives he destroyed, and now... he would be too weak to save someone he saw as a friend... just like before.
Petre felt rage enter in his heart as he stopped himself from opening the bottle. Perhaps, he could at least do one thing right today. At the very least, he'll give Gael some space to recover. Besides, It'd probably be good if Petre died today. He'd be free of her and with all the damage he's done to people's lives over the years, it'd at least help make up for it all. Anything else his death won't make up for, he'd be fine making up for it in the next life. Then with every ounce of strength to fight against his tired body, Petre heaved himself up one leg at a time and stood tall.
Then another idea hit Petre, an idea to distract the thing attacking Gael. Looking down, Petre stared at the mask he had forgotten he was still holding tight to. For some reason it was important to that thing. Perhaps he could use it as leverage? He'd have to try, because what good would it do if he didn't?
Then raising the glassy container and taking aim against his swaying vision, Petre threw the bottle as he concentrated all his hate for her and for all the things he had done in that cold bottle of wine.
The sound of glass shattering echoed through the chamber as a wine bottle flew onto the Bearer's shoulder. At first it was practically freezing, but then began to bubble and burn the Bearer's skin while steam began to rise from the wine and glass. The Bearer stopped and turned to see Petre.
In his hands Petre held the mask of whose face the Bearer had forgotten, but so desperately wanted to remember. "Let him go," Spoke Petre who stood seemingly unafraid, yet in reality was struggling with every fiber to give such an appearance. The Bearer, like a wild animal, released Gael and ran towards the man.
"Stop!" Shouted Petre, but the Bearer ignored it and kept running, "I. Said. Stop!," yelled Petre again as he tightened his grip on the mask, cracks forming as the old mask strained to stay whole. At that sight, the Bearer listened and forced themself to stop in their tracks. They eyed the mask like a wolf, but dared not move.
"Kneel," said Petre, giving out the only command he could think of. The Bearer refused but at the sight of Petre tightening his grip even more and making another crack on the mask, the Bearer fell to their knees with a thud, "Why is this mask so important to you? And why did you attack us?"
The Bearer looked down to the stone floor quietly. For a while nothing could be heard but Gael's groaning and the Bearer's breathing. The Bearer then spoke, using his mouth and vocal cords which felt strange to him as they made complete and whole sentences, "I need to remember her. Her face, Her name. I made a promise to do that," The Bearer looked up at Petre then the mask then at Gael who was rolling over to get up, "I had to defend myself. From the Vessel. From the Dark."
"Who? Gael? I guess you knew him as a monster in his day, but he's fine now. He's under control, and not that bad of a guy when you get to him."
The Bearer gave a horse chuckle as they looked at Petre, "He is still a vessel. A slave," the Bearer hushed and then pointed towards something behind Petre. When Petre looked, there was nothing but unlit darkness from the way they came, "Can't... can't you see them? They are watching us, they want me dead so he can have my soul. They've wanted me dead for so long, for ruining their plans."
The Bearer's hand slowly went limp and hung at their side as they started to mumble like a madman, "It doesn't matter anyway, there is nothing beyond dark or light. Whatever did no longer exists and we cannot achieve something beyond it ourselves for we cannot find anything to do that. For they are want binds our world, even now in this age of new gods and strange light," The Bearer looked at Gael, "If only they could be made one. Hehe, if only..."
Petre looked at Gael who leaned against a nearby statue for support, "Tell me, who was this person you speak of? The person you promised to remember?"
The Bearer looked puzzled and soundless words left their moving lips. They then grew frustrated as they stared hard at the mask, "They were... They were... Luk..a...no, no no no... Lucke... no... Luci...tiel... LUCATIEL!" The Bearer's eyes widened when they said that, their face like a cheering fool in bedlam as a grin formed on their face, "Yes! I- I remember her name! Yes yes yes!"
The Bearer then placed their hands on Petre's shoulder, who almost didn't have the strength to stay standing from the force of the arms, "I need you to promise me something! Remember everything here, the stories on the wall, the history, all of it!" The Bearer's smile disappeared as they then caressed the mask, "And... promise me to remember the one of Lucatiel, please. Promise me to keep our memories alive."
"I-" Petre choked out, his head getting light, "Yeah... I can do that."
"Good," The Bearer nodded and slowly dangled their arms again and looked back to the ground, "Good," the Bearer turned their head slightly to Gael as they walked up to them, "Vessel of humanity, you know They will force you to kill me. Vessel of humanity, you know this. And if you refuse, you know the past will repeat itself."
Gael now stood beside the Bearer, whose eyes were no longer glossy white or filled with mad bloodlust but instead clarity and compassion, yet also sadness, "Must you really die? You gave undead hope, you were- no, you are a hero, a champion. If anyone should hollow and die here, it should be," Gael knelt beside and looked at the Bearer in the eyes, "You have the soul of a champion, you can succeed where I would fail. If anyone can carry the burden I hold, you can."
"Tell me, this new world that lies beyond the fire. Do you care for it? Do you want it to suffer the same fate as our world?"
"No..."
The Bearer closed their eyes, "My time is over. And you Vessel, I can tell," the Bearer looked at Petre, "Still have people to look to. I have no one now. Besides, both the god of the strange light and the father of dark want you, not me."
Gael didn't know what to say as words failed him. He couldn't kill the Bearer. They were a hero to him and many undead. In fact, there were times that the Bearer's story helped him to push on and avoid hollowing. How could he just-
"It's alright Vessel, or should I say Gael? You must find your own path in your own time, just as I did. But please, before you kill me, promise to tell our tale, everyone's tales so we are all remembered. You of all of us who remain, should be able to tell the tale best I am sure," At those words the Bearer looked down, like a criminal ready to be executed, "Promise me, please."
"I..." Gael slowly raised his great sword. It had been so long since he did an execution, or anything similar to it. But to think he'd be... He would give the cleanest and best cut he could, that any executioner could ever give, it was the least he could do, "I promise."
At those words, Gael could see the Bearer go hollow as their eyes returned to being white and foggy and their head went slack. All the while the Bearer spoke their last words, "Thank you."
Gael stood and raised his sword and hesitated as he stood there like a statue. Just as the Bearer said, the voices began to echo in Gael's mind, screaming at him to do it as a dark haze grew in the corners of his vision. The voices kept screaming at him to kill the Bearer of the Curse. "Forgive me," muttered Gael as he then brought down the sword.
The cut was clean and flawless, it was probably the best cut Gael had ever given in an execution. He watched as the Bearer's head rolled across the stone ground before it stopped rolling and looked straight at him. The Bearer's face looked at peace.
Then after a moment, like the floodgates being opened, a torrent of souls rushed from the body and entered Gael, the Bearer's humanity as well going into him. Gael fell to the ground as Petre stumbled to him before collapsing to the ground, unable to keep the facade he was alright. Pain roared in Gael's body as he felt bones and muscle grow that wasn't there before. He felt stronger, but the pain was great. So much so his senses were overwhelmed and couldn't hear what Petre was saying.
Then the pain stopped, and he felt tired, so tired. It felt exhausting just to move his eyes. Slowly Gael looked at Petre, he still couldn't hear him. But he saw someone else. In the entrance to the chamber, they came through, Gael saw a man. He was small like a child, his skin blended perfectly into the shadow abyss around Gael, his eyes sunken and hollow while blood trickled out from them, and his body was frail and boney. Also, his left hand was broken and bent in an unnatural way as bone protruded from the elbow.
The figure then spoke, their voice was a multitude of voices, masculine and feminine all together into one, and commanding as it echoed in his brain, "VERY GOOD, GAEL."