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Thanks to the commenter who lovingly called this story, torture porn, I appreciate it hahaha!

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It is said, in times of struggle the human brain seems to always find a way to make do. Whether at the loss or gain of something important, the human mind has one driving goal, survival. Mating and making progeny are a close second, but the survival of the host of the mind must always survive, no matter the cost to the body as a whole.

In this case, as Izuku breathed deeply in the alleyway near the school, where the cat would come and rip and nip at him, where he finally made the cat back off, Izuku found himself starving. It wasn't the first time, and gods only knew how many more times it would happen in the future, but this time felt different. To Izuku, it felt like he was going to die—like his stomach was on fire, and he had no way to put it out. His brain knew it was close to out of resources for the small boy.

The cat was near.

Izuku was so hungry…

It cowered as the small boy came closer to it.

Izuku woke up near his house with the taste of copper in his mouth. He refused to think about it further. He didn't want to know.

The cat never reappeared.

Izuku would often see missing posters of the cat.

He would get sick at the very thought.

Even as the taste of copper lingered on his tongue, a new, unsettling feeling crept into his mind. He shook his head, trying to dismiss it, but the sensation of being watched never left him. It was as if something had awakened within him, something that pulled him inexorably toward the towering structure he now stood before—the Astral Clocktower.

—

The red and silver-haired hunter stood before the large double doors to the Astral Clocktower. He didn't know how he knew it was called that, only that it was, in fact, called that—almost like the symbols of his mother fed him the information. The zap of cognitive energy zipped between his fingers, a materialization, or perhaps a physical reaction of his high arcane energy getting agitated as something behind the doorway WATCHED him. Almost as if it could tell he came for what is protected. Izuku hated when things knew his next move.

The boy brought his hands to the large brass double doors and pushed, the lingering static causing the metal to creak as it buckled and bent in the way he pushed, allowing the boy to blow the doors back and nearly off the very hinges they hung from.

Izuku looked at his surroundings—a large and well-lit hall-like area with a massive clock face at the other end of the room. However, what sat in a lonely chair in the middle of the room shook him slightly. It was… the doll? Or maybe what the doll was made after. The woman had pure white skin and hair, a fair complexion, and was wearing an intricate set of hunter garb. The name Lady Maria filled his head. The low thrum of arcane energy filled his ears, the clocktower seeming to harness the energy of the cosmos in an intricate and unnerving fashion. Izuku let out a sigh as he began walking toward the corpse of a venerable hunter in the chair. Leaving someone to decay in the open was rude, even if it was a hunter he had never met before.

The metallic scent of her blood reached him even from a distance. It was far more toxic than his own; where his blood merely ate through fabric, hers had charred the very edges of the wound, a testament to the terrifying power it contained.

The young boy reached into one of the many pockets of his garb and pulled out fresh gauze, treated and prepared to staunch the flow of toxic bloods. It was a gift from the Queen of Vile Bloods after his last visit to acquire… information of sorts. Izuku let out a chuckle as he laid his scythe blade on the ground near the corpse. He had only considered preparing bodies for burial, so this was the first time he would ever have done it. The young hunter got down on a knee and pulled the gauze into a long strip, but just as his hand went behind the back of the corpse, leaning heavily against the chair, the cold leather of a glove gripped his wrist. Its grip was vice-like and cut off the circulation to his hand within seconds. His eyes darted up to the woman, who was once a still corpse with no sign of bleeding, pulling him up from his position and close to her face.

Her voice held an accent very close to the doll's as she spoke with a voice nearly identical, "Good Hunter, don't you know a corpse should be left well alone? You who is lost in the nightmare. What do you think of that beastly legend and those ailing wards of the church?" She stopped speaking for a moment, her breath on his face causing him to lock up, her gaze predatory, full of some unknown emotion. "I know what you did to them... It's not your fault. The nightmare held them, and now they are free. But, what about you? Have you profited at all?"

As Lady Maria's cold, predatory gaze bore into him, Izuku felt an odd mixture of fear and familiarity. The words she spoke were foreign, yet they resonated within him, like an old memory struggling to resurface. He couldn't decide if she was a threat or a warning—or perhaps both.

She finally pushed his arm back and Izuku landed roughly on his ass. As she stood, her joints audibly popped and cracked. "Forgive me, good hunter, but leave this place and return to the hunt. You will not find allies here." Her gaze kept to his as he sat there motionless for a few moments.

Why did he feel like this? A cold dread settled in his chest, unlike anything he'd felt before. It wasn't just the words she spoke—it was the way she seemed to see right through him, as if she knew every dark secret he tried to bury. He wanted to run, but something held him in place, a twisted curiosity mingled with fear.

The hunger he'd felt in that alleyway gnawed at him again, but this time it wasn't just physical. It was as if Lady Maria's presence brought forth every dark urge he'd tried to suppress, reminding him of the beast within that he barely kept at bay.

Her grip had been iron. Pain shot up his arm, and his breath caught in his throat. He was trapped—helpless under her gaze.

His free hand gripped onto the long handle of his scythe, the only responsive muscles in his body screaming to attack and run, hide from those piercing gray eyes.

Gray eyes? Familiar gray eyes, ones that shimmered with emotion barely held behind a gate of… of what?

Her iron grip finally let go of his wrist, the majority of the pain subsiding as her hand went to grip the handle of a sleek weapon at her waist. "It was not a suggestion, good hunter. Leave."

His voice came out reedy and a vocal higher than normal, "N-No can do. I have to retrieve something from the end of this Nightmare. My mother demands it of me."

Her sharp eyebrows quirked for a second, and her nose twitched as if finally noticing a stench that lingered upon the air. "Old blood runs rank in thine veins." A sharp thrill shivered through Izuku as she began to draw her blade. "You shall be my final hunt, young hunter. Nothing good comes from blood as tainted as thee."

The sound of the wind screaming caught his ears as she disappeared in a plume of smoking mist—a familiar trick he too was taught. However, it was… rusty. Her form began to reshape beside him as he kicked his body back into movement, flinging his body into a spin to dodge her blade as it struck and splintered the wood where he once was.

Using his own momentum, he whipped himself to his feet. "Nice trick, 'corpse,' but I've been taught that too. And I bet my master was more talented than yours!" In a foul blood mist, he vanished.

Eyes

Sight

He hit the wood on the other side of the large room and sputtered. He had quickened hundreds of times by now and was used to the momentary lack of senses involved in the art. However, it seemed the skills he had been learning had only added to the useful movement skill. Unlike before, he could see the world around his misty form and feel each part of his body scatter and collide.

Or was that what it was like every time?

Had he only become aware recently? His insight into the bizarre had only grown more depth since attaining a second eldritch being to aid him.

A quick swipe, nearly chopping off his head, brought him back to the combat at hand. Slipping his gun from under his coat, he fired into her thigh and watched blood splatter the ancient clocktower's floor, sizzling and blackening the browns.

They both quickened at once and reappeared in front of each other. Blade met blade as the watcher of the clocktower swiped their smaller blade across the right side of Izuku's face, the metal sizzling as it cut into his flesh and through the soft tissue of his ear.

A second gunshot rang out.

Izuku quickened away and plunged a vial into his shoulder, squeezing the glass roughly in his offhand, shattering the bottle into fractals that bit deep into his palm. A mutter of the eldritch tongue cut his tongue as the symbol for fire seared into the soft palate of his mouth, and his blood caught flame as darts of the raging blood launched at the Doll's completion.

A swipe of her blade, and the blood was cut from the air, splattering onto the walls.

"Foul blood arts, Hunter. Born from communion with an Old One and the Vileblood," she remarked, bringing her swords to her chest and sinking them deep. She pulled them free, soaked in her blood that clung to the shimmering metal like slime, dripping onto the floor with loud pops and sizzles as her corrupted blood awoke. "Meet my mercy, young hunter."

Izuku smiled, shaking his offhand as the glass dropped piece by piece to the floor while his healing took hold, pushing the foreign objects out. He needed a few more moments before his mouth healed enough for eldritch arts.

He quickened.

Appearing behind her, her eyes already locked onto him and beginning her swing, he raised his gun and fired into her elbow. She staggered back from the pain, and he closed in, tossing his gun into the air and pressing his palm into her chest. "Ebrietas!" he called out, summoning forth a torrent of writhing tentacles that slammed into the older hunter's chest, launching them across the room before they, too, quickened to appear next to Izuku.

He ducked under her swing and watched as the torrent of blood that screamed across the room from her blade ate into the wall behind him.

He caught his gun as it fell beside him and fired a fourth and fifth time into the woman before him, both shots aimed at her sword arm. As she staggered, he swung the large scythe blade and caught her in the shoulder, ripping through the cloth and skin like it was nothing more than silly string.

She vanished as he fired a sixth time, the shot missing completely and breaking a chair farther in the room. His eyes scanned the area until he spotted her standing before the large clock tower, the symbols of many eldritch words carved into the beautiful construct. He watched as her bloodied blades caught flame—not like his own, where the blood-red fire danced softly. Her flaming blood was like wildfire, fierce and untamed, as she raised her blades, her gray eyes reflecting the orange heat even from the distance between them.

He let out another deep breath and plunged another vial into his flesh, feeling the sharp needle brush against bone and scrape, the pain burning in the back of his throat. Fire. Inferno. Consume.

Three words, his mouth filled with blood as it was torn to shreds in the inhumane act of eldritch speech. He raised his arms and flexed the muscles in his hands, feeling them strain as his sharp nails bit deep into his palms. He called to the beyond, sacrificing the blood that seeped out and the blood within his extremities to conjure orbs of blazing red.

The eldest hunter vanished, reappearing next to Izuku, and plunged her flaming blade into his gut. But the incantation had finished, and the array of orbs, similar to a starry night, slammed into her and combusted.

Both hunters reappeared at opposite ends of the room, breathing deeply. Izuku slammed two vials into his leg, feeling his drained body scream for blood as his skin wrinkled on his hands and arms like raisins, before slowly returning to its normal state. His breath came out raspy as he peered across the room, watching as the woman stood up once more and began walking slowly toward him. He grabbed his scythe and pushed his body to stand. He wasn't back to 100%. The cost of three words had left his jaw hanging painfully, and as the sinew and ligaments stitched his cheeks back into place, he had to reach up and force the hanging mandible bone back into its socket.

His knee buckled as he stood, forcing him to catch himself, but his opponent had no such problems. She appeared beside him, her clothes scorched, revealing patches of red, burned flesh. Grabbing him by the hair, she peered into his eyes as she shoved her blade into his stomach. "Just give up. Thine hunt is elsewhere."

He reached up, grabbing the back of her head, and slammed his forehead into her nose, hearing a sickening snap. With his other hand still gripping his gun, he pressed it into her wrist and fired. Bullet after bullet, he shot up her radius, leaving her sword arm looking more like swiss cheese than an arm. He coughed up a clot of blood and stumbled back as they both released each other, her blade still buried in him and her arm hanging limp.

"My hunt is wherever I need to go to escape this world," he started, his words slurred as the muscle in his tongue felt foreign, damaged from the eldritch speech. "You guard the proprietor of this nightmare, bringing sorrow and cursing all hunters with endless bloodlust. It and all the Old Ones who want to see this hunt continue are on my list." He let out a deep breath and pulled the sword out.

"But you're not on that list. I don't know who you are, but you look like someone I know—a companion, someone who resides in the Hunter's Dream. She and my master, Gehrman. This can be over," he said as blood from his guts spilled onto the wood, and he injected himself again.

She disappeared once more, reclaiming her sword from him with her off hand, her shorter blade lodged into his shoulder. "Quite. How do you know of Gehrman?" She peered into his eyes again, and he couldn't help but feel his face heat up. "Gehrman went missing, and yet you claim to know him? A new hunter? Lies."

"It's not a lie! He taught me the art of quickening," Izuku spoke quickly, dodging the slashes of her blade, his eyes scanning for his scythe. "He told me stories about his first apprentice, his prized apprentice. He said he wished he could have been with her longer, but he couldn't even say goodbye before the dream took him!"

Her slashes faltered, and in that moment, he misted away, reappearing beside his scythe. With a swift motion, he stood ready, his weapon poised for more.

"You speak the truth?" Her words were sharp, wary, as if she teetered on the edge of belief and disbelief.

"Yes," he replied, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. "I can take you to him. You can rest in the Dream, alongside the others I've brought there." She appeared beside him before he could finish, her blade pressed against his throat, cold and unyielding.

"If you lie," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, "I will finish this."

The sharp edge of her blade grazed his artery, a silent promise of death. He swallowed hard, feeling the blood pulse beneath his skin. "I understand," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Just… follow me. I'll have the way opened and send you through. I still have to kill the Orphan at the deepest part of the Nightmare. And while you're in the Dream, you can rest, bathe, and claim a room. There are plenty of books, too—" He caught himself rambling, stopping short as he noticed her eyes narrow in irritation.

"This way," he corrected quickly, leading her to the lantern. He handed the messengers a small handful of items he had gathered, and they began to form a wide circle on the ground. "Just step into the ring," he instructed, "and you'll likely be deposited in front of Gehrman. I… I bribed the messengers." His voice softened as he watched her hesitate, her gaze flickering between him and the strange ritual.

She stepped into the ring of messengers with a mix of trepidation and resolve. "And I'll be in the Dream soon," he added, more to himself than to her. "One final kill."

—

So i think im back permanently until i finish this one, ive been not letting myself enjoy writing, or anything really for a while. And honestly all the class work form collage has just been burning me out, so if i do this to wind down i think ill be able to write a lot more.

Originally this chapter was written almost a year ago around february. However it didn't go anywhere i liked, and i hated so many things going on that i shelved it for months. But I came back a month ago and began re-thinking this chapter and the next ones, and I think I'm back.