"No, lord. King Seniya Bimbisāra of Magadha hasn't provoked me, nor have the Licchavis of Vesālī, nor has some other hostile king. There is a bandit in my realm, lord, named Aṅgulimāla: brutal, bloody-handed, devoted to killing slaying, showing no mercy to living beings. He has turned villages into non-villages, towns into non-towns, settled countryside into unsettled countryside. Having repeatedly killed human beings, he wears a garland made of fingers. I am going to stamp him out."
"Great king, suppose you were to see Aṅgulimāla with his hair beard shaved off, wearing the ochre robe, having gone forth from the home life into homelessness, refraining from killing living beings, refraining from taking what is not given, refraining from telling lies, living the holy life on one meal a day, virtuous of fine character: what would you do to him?"
"We would bow down to him, lord, or rise up to greet him, or offer him a seat, or offer him robes, almsfood, lodgings, or medicinal requisites for curing illness; or we would arrange a lawful guard, protection, defense. But how could there be such virtue restraint in an unvirtuous, evil character?"
-Majjhima Nikāya 86, Aṅgulimāla Sutta (Theravāda Canon)
A week ago, the idea of encountering, let alone slaying, a dragon would have been foreign to him. He knew that man was not a god, and attempting to slay one would be attempting to slay such a thing as the sea. While Wolf may not have slain the sea, he most certainly did part it- for the Divine Dragon would forever be marred by the scar beneath its eye, inflicted by the Mortal Blade. That alone was a great trial- how strong were the inhabitants of this land, to speak of slaying dragons so casually?
"Just up ahead, kid. Agheel, terror that it is." Yura pointed down at the lake, revealing a grisly-looking reptilian creature. In passing, it might have vaguely resembled the Divine Dragon, but where the Divine Dragon inspired awed reverence, this beast wrought only terror. Still, for all its size, it was nothing to the dragon he had faced before, and he was already imagining ways to bring about the beast's demise.
"Could you go down and lure it closer to the cliff?" Wolf asked Yura. It reminded him of the great serpent he had faced before- lumbering and clumsy. Its size was a weakness as much as a strength.
"I can certainly try- but whatever you're planning on doing up there, it better be effective. Trying to lure the beast while it's trying to eat me won't be simple." Yura was putting a shocking amount of trust into him, considering they had only met. Then again, Wolf supposed the same was true for him- he had agreed to fight a dragon with this man after only a single conversation.
"I will assist however I can."
With that last sentence, Yura began his descent towards the dragon while the Wolf watched him patiently. The dragon was an aggressive beast, or perhaps just territorial- the moment Yura stepped onto the lake, it locked eyes with him and rose. Yura immediately ran towards the cliff where Wolf stood as the dragon approached him. Fast as the man ran, he could not hope to outrun a dragon, and so he had to fight, slashing at the beast whilst backing towards Wolf. The ground beneath Yura was wet, and he moved desperately around the small jagged rocks that laid beneath him- when one caught his leg, he slipped and fell.
A fall next to a dragon was surely a death sentence, and so Wolf had to intervene earlier than expected. He raised his prosthetic arm, and fired a barrage of lazulite-tipped shurikens- such weapons held a trace of divinity, and would surely wound even the most defended foe. The dragon let out a sickening roar as blood dripped from his side where the shurikens struck- the wound was not lethal, or even particularly threatening, but it would hopefully provide the distraction needed. Agheel rose from his fallen prey and darted his head frantically- yet no sign of the attacker was visible. By the time the beast looked back down, his prey had gotten up, and had ran toward the base of a cliff. Without thinking, the dragon chased after him once more.
Whatever survival or combat instinct the beast may have possessed had been extinguished through complacency. It had taken roost in an unprotected lake, where it had terrorized the weak people who surrounded it. It had never struggled to fight- it had grown indolent, and when faced with a superior foe, it would die like a dog. As Wolf looked down at it, he realized just how unguarded it was, how single-minded its attention was on the monk before it. It wouldn't see anything coming. He removed his blade, Kusabimaru, from its sheath, and plunged downward. The blade readily sunk itself into the scaled flesh below, and as the beast thrashed, the shinobi held on. Wolf pulled- and the blade inched itself across the creature's flesh, leaving a gaping wound in its wake. It was a mindless act- sheer muscle memory, as he continued to cleave into its neck and into its head. With his gruesome work done, he leaped off of the thrashing creature into the bloodied marsh below.
Yura backed up from the spectacle, and yelled in feared astonishment- " What was that?! You practically vivisected the damn thing!"
"...Is that a problem?"
Yura paused for a moment to collect himself. "...I suppose not. Makes this next part easier, at least." Saying this, he grabbed his nagakiba and cut into the beast's belly, emerging with an inhuman heart. "Normally this is bloody work- still is, but it's considerably better when someone exsanguinates the dragon beforehand. Not that I or any dragon hunter I know would do such a reckless thing."
Wolf couldn't help but feel a tiny bit offended at the insinuation that he was reckless. "It was effective," he said, while pointedly not pouting.
"Well, that it was. Say, you have a good throwing arm on you, to be able to wound Agheel from that far. You have my thanks for that, by the way." Yura gave the shinobi a short bow- an almost comical act, with his massive metal hat.
"It was my prosthetic." Wolf raised his carefully carved arm up, flashing the shuriken mechanism.
Yura's head locked on to the device with palpable interest- "I'm no craftsman, but what you have there is a masterpiece. Whoever made that must've been someone special."
Wolf thought back solemnly upon his former mentor, the Sculptor- he may not have originally made the arm, but it had been improved by his hand so many times that it was his work as much as Dogen's. "He was," the shinobi murmured forlornly.
Yura sensed the man's sorrow. "...My apologies." He paused, uncertain of how to continue. "It's best I head to my camp, but before I do so…" Yura gave Wolf the dragon's heart, which upon closer inspection was still beating. "Here you go. With the heart of a dragon, you can undergo the ritual of Dragon Communion, and take its destructive power for yourself. Know that it is strength not freely given, however. A dragon forever hungers- and should you partake in Communion, a dragon you shall be, in mind if not in form. Nothing good can come of it."
Wolf looked nonplussed. "Why would you give me this, only to warn me never to use it?"
Yura looked wistful once more. "It is heard that the Enlightened One had said, 'When an individual has four qualities I describe them, not as an invincible ascetic—accomplished in the skillful, excelling in the skillful, attained to the highest attainment—but as having achieved the same level as a little baby. What four? It's when they do no bad deeds with their body; speak no bad words; think no bad thoughts; and don't earn a living by bad livelihood.' Yet, these four qualities are essential on the eightfold path. Is it true, then, that a baby is a truer ascetic than many monks?"
"...I don't know how to answer that."
Yura let out a small chuckle- "Ah, do you have so little faith in me, that you would think me less than an infant? I kid, I kid. It is not enough to maintain wholesome habits through ignorance. Only through possessing the heart, determining what courses of action are kusala and akusala, having the option to decide, can you truly reach enlightenment. One may possess the right view, resolve, speech, and conduct- but they must possess the right knowledge to know that it is right."
This man truly did remind him of the Sculptor, with his tendency to shift the conversation into lessons at the oddest times. "I see. I have no intention of using it- what, then, should I do with it?"
"Bury it somewhere, or hold it for safekeeping. The dragons that plague these lands are descendants of the Ancient Dragons- their lesser forms corrupted by hatred. Their undying hatred remains even as their bodies fail and souls move on. I've found no way to dispel such a cur-" Yura paused upon realizing that Wolf had skewered the heart with the second blade he held behind him, which radiated a foreboding crimson. He had seen many dragon hunters attempt to destroy the hearts with such a method, but what shocked him was that the heart slowly began to cease its relentless pulse. "...Full of surprises, aren't we? I won't even ask. But, should you encounter any more dragon hearts, do the world a mercy." Yura sighed. "Ah, you've tired me out now. I'm going to my camp- feel free to follow, you have more than earned my hospitality this night."
The camp was shoddy, but he had experienced far worse. They had stopped by a river- Yura had insisted that he bathe. "Hunting dragons is bloody work, but you are positively drenched. I must know what possessed you to cleave a dragon in half- do you have experience in such things? No, on second thought, don't answer that, I don't wish to know." The two had disrobed and entered the stream- he would need to wash his clothes later as well, for they were the only ones he had. Wolf had anticipated seeing Yura's face without the covering of his hat- yet, his hair was shaggy enough that his face remained just as unexposed. As he stood in the river, he saw crimson red flow endlessly downstream- even with all this water, the blood would take a while to come out. If it ever did.
The last time he was drenched in this much blood, he had killed something that resembled Shura, something fiery and hateful and unending. Something, someone, he had once known. "I turned to Buddhism as I felt the flames of hatred begin to eat away at me. I fear it has not helped." He had expected his recent increase in faith to aid his connection with the Buddha- instead, he felt the flames closer than ever before, scalding his very soul.
Yura gripped his shoulder, attempting to console him. "I'm not one to talk to of such things. I'm a former monk for a reason. Ahimsa is a noble principle, nonviolence a noble goal, but life makes hypocrites of us all. Us, we have killed in the past, we have killed today, and we will continue to do so. Still, I remain on the path to enlightenment, flawed as I am."
"You said your friend has strayed too far from the path. I fear I, too, am too far gone. The flames only grow hotter, and I grow more fearful of what may become of me." Wolf's breathing grew labored as his hands balled up.
Yura grabbed Wolf tighter, trying to keep him grounded in reality. "Such a thought is not unreasonable, as wrong as it may be. Truly, I think the only way to be beyond saving is to wish not to save yourself. This, I believe, is your problem. My former friend had deviated so far from the path that he began to view the path as spoken by the Enlightened One as mistruths- you, on the other hand, refuse the path as you believe yourself to be beyond its help. You are not. In our earlier discussion, we spoke that to reach attainment, one must know evil. You or I- we know evil better than most, for who knows murder better than a murderer? As long as you can believe that there is a day where you can truly put up your sword forever, a day when you can truly embrace the right resolve, I think you are already more saved than most."
"I fear that day will not be for a long time." Wolf's breathing gradually slowed, although it remained shaky.
"You fear too much, friend. The Buddha is patient."
"I truly wouldn't mind you sticking around…"
"I'm afraid I've already overstayed my welcome. " Wolf climbed atop his spectral steed, ready to depart, sun rising in the sky.
Yura sighed at the shinobi, "You are terribly stubborn. I cannot change your mind, so just know that you are welcome at my camp at any time."
The man looked back at Yura, nodded, and then left.
He stopped at a Grace, awaiting its directions, when Melina appeared before him.
She smiled for a moment before speaking, "Greetings, Wolf. You possess a great many runes. Would you like me to turn them into strength?"
"Sure. Thank you." He didn't want to risk enraging the flames within him further, but from some of the monsters he had encountered, more strength may be necessary soon enough. Once again, he felt power infuse within him- his strength grew, yet with it, he felt a heat behind his eyes and in his core. The flames had risen further.
Wolf turned to look at Melina, "Faith… what does increasing such a thing truly do?"
Melina gave him a smirk, "You're asking that now? Well, different schools of thought say different things, but the general consensus is that it connects one's beliefs and emotions closer to one's self."
He froze. His emotions were growing closer to him. Such a thing was the opposite of what he strove for- how was he supposed to release his emotions from his self if they were tied to him? He could not use these runes again. The self was separate from existence- yet these runes sought to tie the two together interminably.
He jolted his hand back from Melina, who was taken aback. "Is something wrong, Wolf?"
He bowed to her, "I am sorry. I cannot use your services anymore. Still, we have made a deal, and I will take you where you wish."
She gazed at him, mouth agape, before speaking."I-if that is what you wish. Still, the path to Leyndell grows only more treacherous, and it truly would be wise to consider…"
He hastily interrupted, "My mind has been made."
"V-very well, then. I wish you the best of luck on your journey."
As he left just out of earshot, she spoke once more- "Truly, I've been given an odd one."
There was a wolf-man in front of him.
"Who goes there? Strange garments, traveler." The man held his arm behind him back, just on the hilt of his sword.
Okay, he could be nonviolent. There was no need to resort to combat- he just needed to defuse. Now, to think of something to say…
"...Strange head." Hm. He might not be suited for this talking thing after all.
The man(?) let out an odd, inhuman laugh. "Aye, true enough, true enough. Name's Blaidd, stranger."
"Wolf," he said, looking upwards at his face. Why was everyone always taller than him?
Blaidd gave a sarcastic fanged grin. " Good eye. "
"My name. Wolf."
The wolf-man snorted- "Really now? Well, that makes two of us, I suppose. We're practically brothers. Say, why don't you help a brother out with something important? There's a reward in it for you. Y'see, this gaol here houses nothin' but a traitor by the name of Darriwil- in need of an end to his tale. Help me kill him, would you?"
He felt a fire roar within him, eager at the prospect of battle- still, this was not his fight, nor was it a necessary one. He could not completely be rid of violence- but it was not a thing to be embraced. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you kill a man who is already imprisoned."
"Bah." Blaidd had an expression of what was presumably annoyance on his face. "You'd feel differently if you knew what this bastard did. Still, I don't have time to tell you his life story. I'll handle it myself." Saying this, he walked into the center of the strange circle that stood before them, and vanished. Was that supposed to happen?
He waited for a few minutes, to see if the man would return. There was no way he was stepping in the circle- he didn't trust some strange magic that spirited people away, and even if it did somehow transport him to the gaol Blaidd had spoken of, he had no business there. He wondered if-
A voice growled suddenly, "Damn it all!"
A wounded Blaidd emerged from the gaol, and began to run. The shinobi was about to ask what had happened when a second arm, clawed with metal, rose out as well. With a surprising level of speed, an armored knight had crawled from the gaol. With a dash, he knocked over the injured Blaidd, raising his curved sword above him. Should he intervene? If he did, a man would likely die. If he did not, the same thing would happen. He knew nothing of these men- he did not know which was more worthy of life, nor whether he was even capable of making such a judgment. Still, it wouldn't do to see a man butchered before him while he stood and did nothing, so he put his hand to his blade and dashed forward.
Darriwil's armor was plate- he didn't know if he would be able to pierce it, but he didn't need to. Between each piece of armor lay a tiny gap of vulnerable flesh- a weakness he would be sure to exploit. A single thrust was all it took- the cloth behind his armor was stained red, and the knight's dying body collapsed on top of Blaidd.
The wolf-man let out an "oof" as the armored body fell on him like a sack of bricks, before shaking him off and slowly rising to his feet, panting. "You have… my thanks. I thought I could face him by myself… stupid, and overconfident." He locked his wolfish eyes on the shinobi, assessing him in a new light. "You're a capable warrior, to end a man's life so swiftly. Darriwil was the fastest of the Bloodhounds- were it anyone but you standing there, I fear he would have finished me off before there was a chance to intervene. You're strong, albeit with a misguided sense of justice. Here." Blaidd lowered down in order to give a gift to Wolf.
"This is a rock." The shinobi looked unimpressed.
Blaidd looked at him questioningly. "It… appears so."
"..." The shinobi continued to look unimpressed.
"Well, maybe a little too small of a gift for saving my life, but it's all I have on me, so it'll have to do. If you want a little more, you'll have to meet with my mistress in Liurnia. I'm sure she'd also be happy to recruit a warrior such as yourself, should you be seeking a cause." Blaidd sounded a little hopeful at this.
Wolf shut it down quickly. "My allegiance is to my lord."
Blaidd groused, "There's a damn shame. Still, your lord and mine might not be as incompatible as you think- just something to keep in mind. Farewell, Wolf- ah, it still feels strange to call you that." With that, Blaidd began to walk away.
According to Melina, Grace had seen fit to direct him to a land known as Caelid. Upon stepping in, he was swarmed by strange dog-beasts several times his size. What they lacked in durability they made up for in numbers- they just kept coming . Evidently, he needed to grow stronger. He had devoted time to his shinobi tools and sword techniques, but he required the explosive growth that seemingly only runes and dragon hearts could bring- and neither of those were options. So, for now, Caelid was off the table. Liurnia remained- and the only thing that stood in his way was Stormveil Castle, guarded by Godrick the Grafted. It would have been easy to simply go around or over it- for what good would he be as a shinobi if he couldn't get around places without being seen- but Godrick apparently possessed one of several Great Runes, which were required to enter Leyndell. He was initially leery of having to deal with more runes, but Melina assured him that he did not have to use the rune, only possess it. So, into the castle he went.
The scene before him was repugnant. Offal and entrails, swarmed by flies and maggots, bloated and gorging. Yet, the horror of the dead flesh paled in comparison to that of the living- if such things could still be considered alive. He had heard of how Senpou monks who had deviated from the Buddha attempted to recreate his lord's bloodline through experimentation on children- he had found that disgusting enough from only hearing a recounting. To see firsthand, what deluded madmen would inflict unto others for power? Hatred stirred. The faces of children were visible on the shambling mountains of flesh- limbs, both engorged and emaciated, moved in sickening disharmony. To kill was to garner unwholesome karma, but this was not murder, it was mercy. He grabbed his blade, and began to cut.
The smell of charred flesh filled the air. Was there a fire nearby? He couldn't tell. It was hot. So very hot. He turned to fight one of the shambling atrocities, yet it was already on the ground. At a closer glance, it looked to be bubbling. Oh well. More still stood. Flames licked across the room- had he knocked over a candle? To be that clumsy was unlike him. A few soldiers entered the room, alerted by something- all of them, complicit. Every last one. Perhaps they would reincarnate as a hunger demon, or have their negative karma enacted through millennia of torture in the hell realms. Man was not a god, yet he would deliver them to judgement all the same.
He continued to cut. Euphoria blended with agony. This was wrong. His skin was alight with pleasure. This could not be more right. His flesh flickered and bubbled. His skin was alight with flame. Nobody alive remained in sight. For a moment, the seemingly endless rapture of battle had ceased, and there was only pain. He did not yet have full clarity, yet he had grasped enough to realize the severity of what had occurred. His flesh burbling, he crawled to a nearby grace, clawing at the ashes.
The vitality given through runes was inhuman. While its benefits to durability were incredible, where it truly shined was in regeneration. His flesh remained tender and blotchy, yet the extent of the damage was nowhere near what self-immolation suggested. He should also be thankful for Dogen, who constructed his arm- whatever wood he used for the prosthetic, it was definitely some form of supernatural. He was focusing on every little detail to avoid confronting the truth of the matter. Godrick alone stood alive in this castle, and he was most certainly aware of his presence, yet that was the least of his worries. He had let the flame consume him- not entirely, though that may only be because his increased vitality allowed his body to resist the fire long enough for him to regain clarity. Would he fall to Shura? Or would he fail, and become a demon like the Sculptor? Both options were terrible- the only consolation would be that hopefully someone in this land would be strong enough to kill him without heavy casualties.
He could kill himself now. It would likely bring about bad karma, but surely no worse than remaining in this life. But could he? The Mortal Blade, a blade capable of slaying the immortal, had failed to end him, sending him here instead. Would he now be bound to this deathless land, forced to undergo rebirth at the hands of the Erdtree? Selfish as it may be, he had to continue to live. To return to his lord. To see a day where he could truly put up his sword…
"...Does such a day exist for me?"