Chapter 1: A horrible dream.
The story begins with a boy, no older than twelve, stumbling into a world filled with nothing but decay, where death was a mere inconvenience to those that roamed the deary streets of Yharnam, a city known for its medical advances around the practice of blood ministration.
The boy awoke with a silent gasp, laying within the sterile walls of a clinic. There, he met a peculiar creature, its body was adorned with unruly fur smudged in patches of red, carrying the heavy stench of putrefaction. Terrified, the child ran as far as his little legs could, but was unable to escape the monster. With a single leap, the thing caught up and swiped using its elongated limb, knocking him to the ground. In one swift motion, the monster cracked its jaws wide open, revealing a maze of jagged teeth, and masticated the child's cranium with a bone-crushing snap.
Instead of dying, however, he awoke once more, unscathed. This time, he was inside a mysterious space beyond the reach of those who could lay harm upon him—the Hunter's Dream. Above, past the muted clouds, hung a pale moon, its radiance nothing short of entrancing. It remained unmoving, observing the entire dimension like a watchful eye. Further away, the boy found a path leading up to a towering gothic structure and allowed curiosity get the better of him. Inside, he met his first teacher, Gerhman—the First Hunter—who taught him most of what needed to know.
Later, after gaining the ability to perceive things one normally couldn't, he encountered a motherly porcelain-puppet with a head of lustrous silver hair, powered by the arcane—the Doll, whom showered him with much needed care and affection. Getting comfortable with the Doll's presence, the boy told her of his ambition, which was to become a Hero of Justice in memory of his late father. She donned a tender smile, encouraging him to follow his dreams… only to be betrayed by those very same aspirations as he went on to free Yharnam from the horrors that plagued it. He wished to save those he could, but failed no matter what; every choice, every decision he made, without fail, led to the demise of those he tried to protect, resulting in the young man's mind to steadily collapse, endlessly taunted by his failures.
Many years after his arrival into this world of nightmares, he lied on a field of muted lillies that gently swayed in the wind, surrounded by countless headstones which neatly populated the edge of the flowerbed. To the side, the colding carcass of a Great One - the source of all his suffering - lay motionless, dead. And with its death came the end of this everlasting night of terrors. The young man barked out a mirthless laugh, the echo of his voice reverberated across the Hunter's Dream before fading into silence. The Last Hunter closed his eyes shut, his expression peaceful as he prepared to take his final breath.
"Farewell, Good Hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world," the Doll's voice, filled with warmth and solace, reached the young man's ears right before his senses ceased to function.
Within the bustling city of Fuyuki, Japan, a young boy—Shirou Emiya—sat motionless on a chair, his head craned high as he gazed into the starless night sky, his expression detatched with eyes pitiless as the sun. The pale moon was bright and the winds were calm, sending a light breeze throughout the bed of pale flowers that surrounded him, causing his red hair to sway.
He used to dream of a world filled with nothing but death and nightmarish abominations beyong Man's comprehension, but not anymore. He was free, unshackled, yet remained burdened by his experience. He wanted to cry out, apologize to those he had failed, yet not a single tear was shed. He locked away the traits of what made him human, becoming nothing more than a shell of his former self.
An older individual, a woman by the name of Taiga Fujimura, entered the garden, staring at Shirou's figure with a look of sorrow. He used to be a cheerful young lad, always trying his best to bring a smile to the lips of those around him… until a week ago, that is. She could not help but recall his abrupt change and the likely cause of it—his adoptive father's death. Since the passing of Kiritsugu Emiya, Shirou was never the same; he became eerily quiet, his mannerisms shifted greatly from an optimistic young man to a cold blue-blooded persona.
Fearing for the boy's mental state, she took him to multiple hospitals, but her efforts to help Shirou was for naught. The doctors could not revert his personality to how it was in the past, attributing this sudden change to shock, and advised her to leave it be lest it gets worse. Powerless to do anything, Taiga could do nothing but hope for the best.
I sat on a chair next to a table, my back straight, an air of gentleness mixed with thorns surrounding my form. My piercing gray eyes studied the open book in my hand. A little over month had elapsed since my escape from that horrible dream, yet the nightmares persisted even to this day. I reached forward, picking up a teacup from the desk, and took a sip, soothing my nerves.
Gently placing the cup down, I returned my full attention to the book. Each facet of my movements was unnecessarily refined, a byproduct of my tenure under Castle Cainhurst. Before her untimely demise at the hands of Alfred, an executioner of the Holy Church, I had served Annalise, Queen of the Vilebloods, as her one and only servant at Castle Cainhurst. Throughout my time there, she had taught me a myriad of things: how to play various instruments, how to dance, and most importantly, she broke down my modern way of thinking and ingrained various habits into my bones, molding me into a fully-fledged noble.
Being the only sane-minded person there, the duty of cleaning her enormous abode fell onto my lone shoulders. Removing filth from what was essentially an abandoned manor was, perhaps, one of the hardest things I had done that didn't involve drawing blood. But I persevered and eventually managed to restore Castle Cainhurst's beauty. Its grand halls and intricate tapestries shone once more, a testament to my dedication.
Turning my head to the side, I saw a young woman enter the scene, her eyes twinkling with wonder as it scanned the scenery before her. Taiga Fujimura opened her mouth, speaking, "You know, Shirou, I can't help but feel amazed no matter how many times I see this place."
"Thank you, I placed great care into maintaining this place. You're welcome to come and relax here anytime," I replied, head slightly tilted in greeting. I then asked, "Do you require anything of me, Taiga?"
"Well, not me. My gramps said he wanted your help with his motorcycle or something," she revealed. Her grandfather, Raiga Fujimura, often requested my expertise in tuning mechanical components, so it wasn't odd for the man to seek my assistance every now and then.
"I see. I'll be joining you in a moment," I responded positively and snapped the book shut, setting it on the table. This caught the woman's interest, prompting her to ask what I was reading. Caressing the book's cover, I answered, "It's something I picked up some time ago. It tells the story of the world's destruction caused by the gods' inability to let go of the past. Written by an author that goes by Marvelous Chester."
"Huh, never heard of it. Sounds interesting, though," she comments. Taiga wasn't really the type to read novels, preferring to watch movies and shows instead.
"Indeed it is," I uttered. My mind suddenly blurred as the memories of my time in Castle Cainhurst, where I obtained the book, resurfaced. While it was a grueling challenge to cleanse an entire mansion of tarnish all on my own, it was much better than slaughtering beasts without rest. It was a temporary reprieve from the haunting images and relentless nightmares.
"You know… you should smile like that more often," Taiga's voice reached my ears, pulling my out of my reverie.
Taiga rarely ever saw Shirou show any kind of emotion for the past couple of years, so seeing him do so, albeit unconsciously, made her smile as well. But she knew it wouldn't last, like always. She then turned her back before the emotion on his face vanished, returning inside the Emiya home, leaving the young man abandoned.
'What did she say?' my thoughts stirred. I raised my hand, feeling the corners of my mouth to verify Taiga's statement. It was as she said—a smile had captured my lips. As if it had never appeared in the first place, my curled lips thinned into a fine line as a mask of impassiveness covered my face.
Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of a intricately crafted headstone resting by the end of the courtyard. The sun peeked through muted clouds, casting bright rays onto the monument, revealing the name etched on its surface—Kiritsugu Emiya.
"My deepest apologies, Father. I have failed to uphold my promise," I eked out, my voice barely above a whisper. I had promised to inherit his dream: to be a Hero of Justice that will save everyone in front of them, but I had failed in the end.
Standing still, my mind wandered once more. To this day, I remained clueless as to how I even ended up in that cruel world, as I had not a strand of connection to it. But one thing was clear—it was real. The pain and agony I experienced told me so. At first, I refused to acknowledge it, hoping it was just some bad dream. Oh, how foolish I was.
Under the guiding hands of Gerhman, I took up arms, fully assimilating into the role of a Hunter. I slaughtered the monsters that stalked the streets, believing I was purging the world of evil. At the start, my fighting skills were, to say the least, abysmal, it took but a single starved dog to send me to the nearest Lamp. I was just young boy with zero knowledge of combat, after all. However, with time and mentorship from numerous different people, I grew adept at utilizing a vast array of weaponry, gaining much needed skills to survive for longer durations.
Soon, I stumbled upon the grim truth of what I was hunting: they were not mindless beasts who indiscriminately killed, but helpless victims of powers beyond their control. After uncovering this truth, I confronted Gerhman. He affirmed my findings, revealing that every monster I'd felled with my own two hands was once human, afflicted by a bloodborne disease—the Beast Scourge—that transformed them into what they had become. I desperately sought a way to reverse the transformation, to save those unfortunate souls. Surely, there was some cure? But the people had already tried everything in their power and ended up empty-handed.
There was no helping them now. Only by killing them could they be granted the peace they deserved. The reality that I had been killing people all this time caused the contents of my stomach to heave. The weight of my sins bore down on me, and I vomited as the horror of my actions sank in.
Snapped out of my trance, my breaths turned haggard before quickly returning to normal. Lowering my head in shame, I turned and walked away in complete silence. I was undeserving of happiness—I was a monster. I slew those who obstructed my path forward, be it beasts, other Hunters who've succumbed to bloodlust, or Great Ones—the very gods who ruled over the world. Dozens, hundreds, thousands; I have perished in ways no sane person could even start to imagine, all for a chance of ending this dreadful nightmare.
The echoes of my footsteps were the only sound in the area, a haunting reminder of the lives I had taken and the humanity I had lost.
END.
Author's notes: A short snippet I made out of boredom. I don't know if I'll continue it, though.